Coloring The Void
by RandyyMack
Summary: In the sadness of it all, Can you fill it with colors? After a tragic accident, Elizabeth Webber finds herself spinning out of control and feels there's only one person who might understand how she feels.
1. Chapter 1

**Coloring the Void: Chapter 1 **

So there we sat, once again in our usual spots outside the bustling Kelly's dinner. I was back in Port Charles, the city where I was born and been raised for much of my life. I had been gone a while now but Kelly's that afternoon felt very much the same. I was always able to picture the crowd while I was gone. I would see them in my head when I felt homesick, in that rich sepia tone designated for memories from long ago. I'd imagine myself there, always with Emily.

Those same bodies rushed back and forth, swimming in and out of the old brick courtyard where we always sat. Nothing looked different on the surface of that day; it was as if the months that passed never had. However, when you've been away from a place for a while, a place that in your mind could never change, the surprise that it has in the smallest way, stings and makes you uncertain of all you'd thought you'd known.

And for me, there was no bigger surprise than the changes in my relationship with my best friend, Emily Quartermaine.

"Liz," Emily started, giving me a wide, expecting smile. So many times that day she had told me how happy she was to have me back. I didn't think for a second that she was capable of saying anything else. "You can't even begin to understand how fucking happy I am to have you back," she said, just as I'd predicted.

I smiled, chuckling at the vulgar affection. In a way, it was nice to hear. It was good to be home and to see her again. But in another way, it felt different. I felt different. It all was making me scared and sort of nervous. Her excitement, her words, it was all gnawing at me, making me uncomfortable, searching for a place inside me to possess. Her eyes bore into mine, the pupils wide and wishful, but it started to feel like nothing could possibly break the ice between us.

"I'm happy to see you too, Em," I said with a small smile.

And that was it. That was all we seemed to be able to say to each other. We just sat there for half an hour, sipping lemonade and staring at each other in cold silence. The summer heat beating down as we tapped our glasses and ran our fingers through our long crinkly hair.

I took a sip of my lemonade, letting out a sudden gush of nervous laughter. It was an awkward situation. Too awkward not to laugh. My life was so different now than how it'd used to be. I could see now that I couldn't adjust. I'd been gone a while. A few months. Emily and I obviously assumed we could just instantly fall back into old ways and be best friends again. But I wasn't too sure I could do any of the things I used to anymore. And I was worried all the time about it. But I wasn't supposed to be worried about this. No. I wasn't supposed to be nervous about seeing Emily. We had so much to talk about, so much to catch up on. It should be easy.

I glanced at Emily. Her head was bowed and she was fiddling with the bracelets on her wrist. I looked to my own wrist, at my own bracelet. It was the same. They still matched identically. But we were so different from the girls who had giddily exchanged those bracelets years ago.

"So," Emily sighed. "How was it? How was… rehab?"

My head shot up and I blinked in surprise. She done it. Finally, she'd unleashed the question I'd been waiting for. The question I never thought she would ask. Now, she would know who I am.

"It was," I started but stopped. How does one explain exactly the experiences they had in rehab without terrifying everyone? While rehab had its goods, it had a lot more bads. And while the goods eventually outweighed the bads, it made it hard to find the words I needed to describe it and even then, there would never be enough words.

I sighed too and stirred the ice in my glass. At first, all the detox, therapy, and group sessions were intolerable. I just had to keep telling myself I wasn't like those people, I wasn't anything like the crazies that surrounded me. Those people couldn't control themselves, but I could. I wasn't like them. I could stop whenever I want to. I always could.

My grandmother was the only reason I was even in there in the first place. For those first few weeks, my mind was filled with unpleasant thoughts about that woman and what a betrayal it was of her to send me there. But, one day, after a long session where I had to explain why I was there, I'd come to the realization that I didn't have to be. I could have prevented everything. But I hadn't. I'd just hurt everyone around me until the price finally came around to hurting myself.

I had seen what finding things inside my room had done to my Grandmother. I saw instantly what it did to her heart, to her smile. All those people in rehab had done that their loved ones too. All of them could have also prevented it before it got too far. I was like them. We were all alike, every last one of us. There was no denying it. I belonged there. When I finally realized that, everything got easier.

"It was helpful, actually," I said aloud to Emily.

"Really?" She frowned. She almost looked surprised to hear me say I enjoyed myself. "How so?"

This question was even harder. It was all too much to say and nothing Emily would want to hear. I bit my lip and tried to come up with something she could understand or relate to. But only one thing came to mind.

"I'm free," I said finally. "It made me feel free and I love how great I feel."

Emily looked taken aback. I knew that wasn't what she wanted to hear. I knew she wanted me to go back to my old antics and live that old life that I'd had as Port Charles's 'Wild Child'. But she needed to know I wasn't like that anymore. She needed to know I wouldn't go back.

She took a deep breath as my words settled and flashed an uncertain smile. "Have you seen Lucky yet?"

My face fell. Lucky was my boyfriend. He was tall, dark, and handsome. And he was horny all the time. He had a temper too. And he never listened to me, not anything I ever said. Emily, of course, loved him and thought we were great together.

But we've never been happy. Majority of the time we'd spent together was devoted to fighting. Lucky was always quick to set a bad mood on me. When his snapped, mine did too, and sometimes he'd hit me and I'd have to hit him back. We always knew how to cause a scene.

I hadn't thought about Lucky for two months now, even after I'd been so upset to leave him. I used to want to spend the rest of my life with him. He'd meant everything to me. We'd been together for so long. We used to shop lift together and Lucky, well, now Lucky stole cars. We were so negative for each other. But I had wanted to marry him. I had wanted to drive off in the sunset with him in one of his stolen cars. But I couldn't want that anymore. And I had been thinking long and hard about how I'd have to tell him that.

"No, I haven't seen him yet. I only wanted to come and see you." I tried to smile even though my good mood was gone.

"So you're done then," Emily asked.

"Yes."

"And you're staying that way?"

"Yes."

Emily sank back in her chair, a frown on her face. We'd known each other since kindergarten, when we would both use the same colors in our coloring books, never wanting to be different from each other. I could see I was changing all of that without permission. Now that I wanted to be different from Emily, she would think it was me not wanting us to be friends.

"I don't want to feel that way anymore, Em," I told her.

"Feel what way anymore," she asked, tightly. "I've never really had a problem with anything I do. It feels great. You know it does"

"For a while, yeah. But don't you ever feel down?"

Emily shifted in her chair and lied. "No." She sighed. "I'm only having fun!"

Our friend, Matty, had been the one who started me and Emily down our ever so rocky paths. He'd only wanted to help us fit in at school; we were both so exclusive, never branching out to meet anyone new. He'd also said we always seemed sad, which I could believe. My parents were traveling the earth always and I never got to see them. Emily's parents were separating, her family was cracking apart. He helped us escape, I had been grateful, but now I was done running.

"We're going to graduate at the end of next year, Elizabeth," Emily said giddily. "I'll move on by then. I have to go to college and get my brains on, right?" I smiled at her and she took my hand again.

Soon it would be time for Emily, Matty and I to start looking for colleges. However, unlike me and Matty, Emily's grades were in excellent condition, she wouldn't have to struggle this year like me to graduate and could probably party the year away.

"It's hard to quit," I told her brutally. Emily stared at me, unblinking, then hastily released my hand and looked down at her lap.

"You did it," she alluded after a moment.

"I had a lot of help." I could feel Emily's annoyance with me because Emily always had a hard time concealing her feelings.

"I don't think it's that hard. You act like I ever said I needed anything. I don't need anything to be happy." She looked up and met my concerned eyes with hard ones. "Now," she breathed, all the annoyance left her expression as she changed the subject. "Tonight, we're throwing you a party."

"Who is we," I asked. As if I wanted to go to any party. Great, just great, I thought mulishly, I still had to break up with Lucky.

"Us," Emily quipped. "You're friends. Remember us? The friends you ditched so you could spend months in some rehab. I'm glad you had a good time, Liz but I'd kill my mom if she ever sent me there." I frowned then and thought about Monica Quartermaine who thought the sun rose and set in Emily Quartermaine, who thought her child was so innocent. Emily's mom hated me of course, she thought I was the devil. She warned Emily about me so many times. "You didn't even write or call us."

"They don't want you to talk to the people from you past…"I explained.

"Well, not everyone from your past is bad. Like me. And well...," she paused. "Me!" She chuckled. "Aren't you tempted?"

"I told you, it's hard," I told her honestly.

"Well, if your gut is telling you do to something, Elizabeth, maybe you should listen to it," she suggested, her voice low. I knew what Emily meant but I couldn't do that to myself or my family.

"This is so different from listening to your gut, Em," I scoffed. Emily rolled her eyes again and dropped her head down to her arms on the table. I eyed the brown mop of hair and sighed.

"Hmm. Well, seems pretty much the same to me."

The awkwardness wasn't leaving. Would it stay from now on? I also wondered if Emily would ever accept my new self and my new goal but the way she was acting told me she wouldn't. I wasn't any more accepting towards her life either. Did this make things so different? If I looked down on things Emily did, did I look down on her?

"Oh my god," Emily cried and shot up and out of her seat. "Jason!"

I watched as she flew into muscular arms and that wrapped around her tightly, squeezing her small frame. "Okay! I have to breathe!"

Jason laughed and released her from their hug.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her.

"I'm hanging out," Emily told him and gave him a warning glare. She looked over in my direction and beckoned me with her finger. Awkwardly, I stood up, pulling at my shirt, and cautiously walked over to them. Emily whipped around, grabbing my hand and pulled me towards her, sending me crashing into her hip bone.

"Ouch!" I muttered but she paid me no mind.

"This is my best friend-"

"Elizabeth," he cut in with a knowing smile.

My heart pounded as our eyes met. It had been a long time since I've looked into those eyes. Growing up, those eyes had belonged to Jason, Emily's older protective, handsome and perfect, brother. I'd loved him from a very young age, he'd always been so nice to me. I don't think he ever really knew of my crush, if he did, he never made me feel stupid about it.

I had always considered me and Jason close, course not in the way that I wanted. He treated me like a sister and I accepted what I could. I tried my hardest not to stare, not to beg with my eyes for the man in front of us to remember me and treat me the way that he used to. Two years ago, Jason Quartermaine had unfortunately been in a car accident, a very bad one that left him in the hospital for a really long time.

It was an awful head injury, so many were discouraged of a positive outcome. Finally, when he woke up, we all learned that he didn't remember anything about his old life. Even worse, he didn't want any of the same things that he'd always wanted. Emily's family had tried so hard to get him to adjust but it didn't work and he ended up leaving. He kept in touch with a few of the Quartermaine's, like his grandmother and Emily. But I never reintroduced myself to him. I didn't think it was important. I had lost the Jason I'd idolized so much. He was a different person now and unlike his family, I had accepted that. Which was why I was so surprised he knew who I was.

"She talks about you all the time," Jason revealed with a half-smile that answered my confusion. The way Emily's family spoke of this Jason, I'd always worried about meeting him. He was supposed to be mean and cold now and was in a very dangerous line of work. He was also supposed to be difficult to talk to and didn't necessarily like people. But the way he'd hugged Emily, I found that hard to believe.

"Well excuse me for trying to be courteous," Emily huffed. "Believe me, I won't make that mistake again.

Jason's gaze dropped to his black biker boots as he fought a laugh.

"You should stop by the house soon, Jason," Emily said seriously. She touched his arm and instantly his head snapped up, his face filled with nothing but concern.

"Why," he asked. Though he was brain damaged, I could tell that Emily hadn't lost the overprotective brother she'd once had.

"Grandmother would love to see you. She misses you," Emily smiled sadly, "And so do I." The creases of worry only grew deeper on his face as she stammered. "Life's not–"

"I'll come tomorrow," he interrupted and she smiled thankfully. I knew it was hard for her to talk about the things that troubled her. I wondered if I was part of the things that troubled her now and wondered if she would talk about me.

"I think that would help," she told him and attempted to beam.

"Yeah," he breathed.

"Go eat," she mumbled but he stayed where he was. "Go!" She kicked him in his calf to give him a start, and he smiled.

"Yeah." His eyes turned off their search and looked back at me. "I'll uh- see you tomorrow," he told Emily but held his gaze on me.

Emily nodded.

"Nice to finally meet you, Elizabeth." he said and smiled an incredibly handsome smile that singed all my thoughts together.

"Nice to meet you again too," I murmured shyly. He nodded weakly in parting then left us and went through the doors of Kelly's. His presence stayed fresh in my mind though, long after he left.

"So, on with the party," Emily squealed and hooked her arm in mine.

I laughed. "Yeah, on with the party," I smiled, faking excitement as best as I could and followed Emily out of the square.

**-Present day-**

_"Thank you for your attention," the airline video sounded. "And we wish you a safe flight."_

_The television blinked to black, the video no longer present to ease my mind. I sighed, closing my eyes and pressed my head against the window of the plane. This was hard to do but it needed to be conquered. I could do it, I promised myself. I had everything I needed in me to handle going back._

_I opened my eyes again and peered down as we began to ascend into the bright sky. I took his hand in mine, squeezing it, knowing I had to be strong for the both of us. Soon, the grounds outside of this window would no longer be our home and sanctuary. Soon, I'd see the rough and tumble lights of Port Charles, beaming up at me._

_Though this was my home now, I'd always stayed in Port Charles in some way. And as the plane got closer and closer to Port Charles, it grew harder to fight the memories of him and the wonderful words we'd shared years ago. But I would do my best to filter them out._

_I turned away from the window and flashed a grin and a smile, looking deep into his piercing blue eyes, no amount of love enough to express how I felt about him. Port Charles, I thought again, oh Port Charles, How I wished I could block all the memories out._


	2. Chapter 2

**Coloring the Void: Chapter 2 **

I guess I should have expected this. Parties in Port Charles were always so loud and noisy. I sat by myself in the darkness of Emily's big, fancy bedroom in the Quartermaine mansion that I might as well have grown up in, hiding out like the coward I knew myself to be.

My "Welcome Home" party wasn't exactly the best event to go to on the day I had just come back from rehab. And while I was in a much better state of mind and knew all that I wanted to accomplish with my life, I wasn't really too sure if I could control myself. And so I ran away and hid. Course these were my closest friends I was hiding from and I couldn't help feeling a little bad about that.

I sighed, disgusted with myself for hiding from people that I knew loved me. I've known them most of my life, have shared so many of my experiences with them and had always been comfortable in their presence. But now, everything had gotten so complicated. I was uneasy around them. I didn't fit. It felt like I'd lost them, like we didn't have anything in common anymore.

I took a deep gulp of air. Breathing helped me now and so did the dark. They calmed me now, and showed me where I fit, but they couldn't take the guilt away of purposely neglecting my friends.

I put my head down, into the belly of one of Emily's favorite old rag dolls and thought about how crazy the first few hours of my return had been. First, my awful lunch at Kelly's with Emily and now this awful party. And of course, there'd been Grams and Sarah, who didn't believe in me and ignored me no matter how hard I tried to reconnect with them.

I sighed, thinking about all the crap in my life that I had to deal with. I just didn't want to deal, not with anything at all. I took deeper breaths, putting more air into my lungs, and tried to swallow away the gross taste of fear in my mouth.

I needed to pull myself together. I was an idiot to even come in the first place. It probably wouldn't have been too hard to say no, to call the whole thing off, or have Emily come without me. But I had pretended like I was cool, like I could handle it.

My friends meant a lot to me. They understood me in a way my family never did and were always there for me even when they didn't need them to be. Course, they were annoying and immature and sometimes even a little backstabbing but tonight they had done something nice in throwing me a welcome home party.

But it was all different now. And I wasn't sure I could talk to my friends anymore the way I use to. And I really needed someone to talk to, someone who understood. I was supposed to have a sponsor. It had been strongly recommended to me. They said I would need support for a little while, that I would need someone to plan and talk things out with. But I didn't really know who to ask. I'd spent most of my life without support and figured I wouldn't ever need it. Suddenly, I felt wrong about that. Maybe I did need someone to help me. Maybe that would make things easier.

I knew from the look all my friends had given me when I first walked into the Quartermaine's that they didn't believe this would last. It was the same look Sarah and Gram's had given me when they picked me up earlier that day. I expected it. I knew that no one believed me and I could see why they didn't since, I've never given them any reason to. I was so close to taking something that Matty had offered me, just to make things less awkward, make things normal.

My eyes peered through the dark room, trying to make out the elegant objects I was used to seeing in the light. Outside, the moon was high and bright, its gleam shone through the window, illuminating the half of room where I sat and acting as my lantern. The other half of the room probably still looked the way it used to but it smelled funny to me now. I took a few more deep breaths of air, inhaling and exhaling, putting everything out of my mind. But as I did, an annoying tingle began to bother my lower eyelid, a tingle that stung with each breath. I was going to cry. I could not cry, I wouldn't. The darkness of the room took a slight blur.

I closed my eyes and pressed my tears into the small, soft belly of the old tattered rag doll. But the doll smelled just as funny as the rest of Emily's room. And suddenly, I knew what it was. My head shot up from the doll and I stared at it in horror. The doll smelled like the smoke from downstairs!

I propelled the doll into the air, away from me and across the room. It landed somewhere on the other side, eaten by the darkness. I only wanted to cry more. But what would it do?

"Elizabeth," I heard someone call from the other side of the door. I jerked. I sighed, then got up quickly to open the door for him. As I started to reach for the knob, he opened it himself and appeared before me just as I remembered him; a very tall, very skinny, very dangerous, Lucky Spencer.

I squinted as the bright light of the hallway entered with him, altering the dark forms of the room. It was much brighter than the glow of the moon and the sun-yellow beam drew a line across the bedroom floor which reveled much more of the room than I'd recognized.

I glanced away from the newly uncovered furniture and set my eyes to his kindly. He smiled in return.

"What are you doing in here all by yourself," he asked, entering the room and shutting the door behind him also shutting out the light from the hall and returning the room back to its darkness.

"I was waiting for you," I lied then smiled sweetly.

He laughed. "Really?" He moved, closing the distance between us. "It smells in here," he said playfully then wrinkled his nose. He wrapped his arms around my waist, commanding me to touch him somewhere. I obliged by joining my arms around his neck.

"It does," I agreed and looked up into his shadowed eyes.

"You don't smell bad," he chuckled and bent to smell the swirl of floral scent against my neck. I awkwardly arched, letting him.

"Mmm," he almost groaned. "You always smell like soap."

"Well, thanks. I shower."

"Glad some things never change," he murmured and swayed with me in his arms. "Unless they taught you that in rehab," he laughed, pressing a kiss against the skin underneath my ear. "If they did, I'm glad. I always hear it's where they really teach you things."

I frowned and pushed away from him, putting space between us. He was making fun of me. But I knew he would. It was never like Lucky to be for my cause and of course I would still have to break things off with him, even if he'd been supportive.

He watched me with confusion and kept still, his arms hanging in the air, posed as if I were still enveloped in them. His eyes quickly turned bleak, then agitated and his hands dropped to his side as he heaved

"What?" he snapped.

"Lucky…" I tried my best to sound calm, not to make him angry. I pulled myself up and stared him in the eye, gathering all my courage. "You were just making fun of me."

His jaw twitched and his eyes burned angrily. "When?"

"Just now. When you said-," I muttered, not finishing. I shifted uncomfortably as the room grew small.

"Well yeah, it was a joke," he snapped. He took a foot step towards me but I stepped away which plucked more at his anger. "Come on, Liz!"

But I only looked down at the dark floating above my feet, then dodged him again when he reached out for me.

"Lucky," I sighed then said seriously, "I'm serious about this. I know you don't understand that, but I am." My eyes failed to meet his, only looking at the floor. Which meant, I was still as much of a coward as I was before. Which must have pleased him greatly. "I'm making huge changes to my life now," I spoke again, but again to the floor and not to the tall, reckless boy in front of me.

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." I said and looked up and into his eyes. My heart faltered. I worried about what he would do next! But I'd have to actually finish before I could worry about that. I inhaled deeply, dipping again into my courage, refilling myself with determination.

"It's not gonna last." He said before I could say anything.

"Uh– Y-Yes, It will." I frowned. "Lucky," I said, grabbing his hand. His eyes burned into mine. It took me all I had not to run. He stared at me, making me grow more nervous under his gaze. A smirk stretched across his face, enjoyed punishing me, mentally beating me into place. He waited, knowing I wouldn't say what he knew I wanted to say.

I looked away abruptly and he smiled, inching closer to take my face in his hands.

"In order for this to last," I said. He halted. I paused, waiting for the words to come out of my mouth. "In order for me to stay this way, I can't be with you."

"Bullshit," he muttered. But I didn't lighten my intensity. I didn't take any of it back.

His eyes grew wider and wider by the moment, the anger in them becoming more present by the second. I wanted to flinch and pull away. I felt water involuntarily falling from my eyes as I blinked. His hands peeled off me and he stepped back. But I didn't look away, I knew what was coming, I couldn't look away.

"You LIAR!" He stepped forward then bent slightly so we were face to face. "You BITCH!"

"Lucky," I sputtered a plea then wondered if it would be better to get away or defend myself or even cry!

"Say you don't mean it," he shouted. He was so close, so angry. I took a step back but crashed into something tall and hard.

"No," I shouted. "When have you ever been good for me, Lucky? When have we ever been good together?"

He didn't answer, only silenced me with a hard strike across my face. I gasped and my vision fuzzed. I heard nothing, nothing but my own shaky breathing and the burning on my cheek.

"You think you're better than me," he asked. "Is that it? Well, fuck you Liz… Fuck you."

He sighed, putting his hands on his hips and groaned, pacing back and forth. I stayed where I was, fighting tears and ignoring the pulsing pain that radiated from my cheek.

He stopped pacing in front of me. "I'm sorry," he apologized.

"You always say you're sorry," I whispered through tears. "I've always said it's not enough."

He was still for a moment but moved away from me slowly. He slumped down onto Emily's bed.

"We've been together since your freshman year, Liz. I can't imagine us not being together. I have no idea what I want to do with my life, but you were always supposed to be in it, no matter what. What can I do? What can I do to change this?"

"Nothing," I said. We stayed there, in the dark in Emily's room, for what seemed like a lifetime. It was over for us. It was the end. It needed all the time to seep in. 

"Have you ever wished you could fly," I heard Emily ask someone as I started up the steps to the roof. I took a deep breath, moving quickly up the steps and lightly.

After my encounter with Lucky, I knew it was about time I left. I had decided to stop trying to make adjustments and just admit I couldn't handle this party at all. I still wanted see Emily but I had decided that I didn't really need to hang out with all our old friends.

"No," I heard what sounded like Matty's voice say to her. "Never. Why?"

I peeked my head through the threshold and saw that it was only the two of them sitting on the roof. I immediately blushed.

For me, after Emily, Matt was the only other person that I held dear in our little group. He was my best friend, we had always been able to talk for hours. And while, he was one of the first people to offer me something downstairs when I had first walked in, I saw in his eyes as he held it out to me, how badly he didn't want me to take it.

Matt was also mutually Emily's best friend. We both confided in him, both asked for his advice, and spent a lot of time alone with him. While Lucky never really minded our relationship, Nikolas, Emily's boyfriend, minded very much. And though he didn't know it, he had all the reason in the world to.

Emily sighed. "You don't think it would be cool at all to fly?"

"Nope," Matt replied nonchalantly.

I stayed by the threshold, not yet announcing my arrival and debating whether or not to turn around and go right back downstairs. Matt was laying on the higher slope of the mansion's roof, relaxed, his eyes closed, and quite far from Emily who stood by the edge of the roof, peering over and looking down.

"You don't want to fly with airplanes? Be like superman?"

I wasn't sure if their conversation would remain innocent. I wasn't sure if I'd accidently hear something I wasn't supposed to.

Matt scoffed at Emily's statement and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Don't you," she asked again.

But Matt ignored her. "Come here," he ordered huskily, making Emily laugh. I felt my whole face grow red. I'd always suspected Matt's interest in Emily, but I'd never witnessed it outright. Emily didn't move, causing Matt to sigh heavily "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she murmured so silently I could hardly believe it was English. I felt like turning around and running down the steps. This was eavesdropping, this was wrong. But maybe this was the only way I'd be able to understand Emily, to know who she was now.

"Is it about Nik," Matt asked.

"No."

"Your parents?"

"No"

"Lizzie?"

I slammed my eyes shut, pressing them hard together. Of course, this was about me.

She gasped loudly and swung around, starting towards Matt. "Oh my gosh," she cried. "Did you see how much she's changed? How weird she's acting!"

"She went to rehab," he said slowly, I could tell he was defending me. "I thought that's what's supposed to happen."

Emily gave him a disapproving glare. "It's fuckin weird."

"No it's not," he sighed and sat up. "She probably went in there, thinking that nothing would change, that after a month there, she'd come out exactly the same and come back to doing the same old stuff."

"Well that's what I thought," Emily grumbled.

"But this is rehab! If you don't change there, they kill you," Matt laughed, flashing a huge loopy grin. Emily took a long deep breath. "This might be weird for her too, Em. Just because she doesn't do everything that you do anymore, doesn't mean she's changed. You guys can still be friends, right?

Emily sighed and climbed up the slope, taking a seat next to him. "Maybe not."

"She didn't take anything this afternoon." I smiled at that. "Maybe she's serious"

"Yeah," Emily started then paused, giving a solemn nod. "But it feels like I lost her."

"Well, she's here somewhere so go find her," Matt chirped. She glared at him again. "I thought you guys were friends since kindergarten. You liked her then didn't you? Why can't you like her now?"

Emily's shoulders sagged. "Cause she's going to preach all fucking time, Matty. You know she is! She's gonna be all, gosh Em, you really shouldn't do that. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah! Who wants to deal with that shit all the time?"

Matt and Emily sat in silence as I still waited in the threshold. Emily was obviously unsatisfied with who I was yet I still wanted to speak up in that moment; I wanted to join them, tell her that I wouldn't judge! But then here she was, judging me.

"I have a gift for you," Matt said finally.

"Is it the Taj Mahal?"

No," he laughed and pulled a baggie from his pocket. "But you can call them that if you want."

She grinned widely, sticking her tongue out. He rustled with the bag and pulled a small white cube out and placed it into her mouth, then placed one into his own.

Emily smiled. "Well thank you for the gift."

"You can thank me," he murmured pointedly, "with that kiss we were talking about earlier."

She laughed, huskily and scooted closer to him. "That's not how I thank my Dad when he gives me gifts."

He chuckled then pulled her on top of him, her legs straddling his. She didn't say a word and didn't seem to mind. I took one long shaky deep breath, digesting. I looked back down the dark stairwell and slowly and quietly began my descent.

It was careless of Matt and Emily to be fooling around on the roof. We all used to sit up there after school. I wasn't sure if Nikolas knew about it, but I didn't give it much thought. I carefully opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, slipping through it and was once again back in the festivities.

I closed the door, carefully stepping over the girl who lay unconscious in front of it, and started down the hallway.

The pain from my cheek was still pounding, I already knew it would bruise. I'd heal eventually though.

The party was massive! I should have felt honored seeing as there was rarely an available time to throw a party at the Quartermaine's. Emily had so many family members who were in and out, it was so rare that she'd be home alone.

I stepped outside, onto the porch. The air was so crisp out there and giddily I filled my lungs with it. The sky was cloudless, stars filled every inch of the black space, casting an artistic glow over the mansion.

Suddenly, I wished I was still painting, which struck me dumb with surprise since I hadn't painted in years. I didn't even own that many supplies anymore! I used to paint mostly back in middle school. I had liked to use colors; in my visions, everything had to be vivid and bold. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go back home, pull out a canvas, and smear something onto it.

A scream suddenly pierced through my thoughts, startling me. It came out of nowhere, loud and fierce, like a splatter of red on a brand new canvas. My head almost came off as I whipped around and caught a shocking sight, a body falling from the roof. It looked about three or four floors up yet the fall was so quick I would have missed it had I not turned.

That scream, that scream couldn't have been missed though. The music inside of the party shut off, voices rose, everything started buzzing.

I hadn't blinked. I couldn't close my eyes.

Matt was the run out. "What the hell was that," he asked as he came out of the front door. I couldn't look at him, my eyes weren't allowed to move from that one spot. He must have followed my gaze. "Liz?"

He took a slow step forward. "Liz," he spoke again.

Hadn't I just left him? Hadn't he just been on the roof?

"They," my words said, my brain not even registered me saying them. "fell….from the….roof."

"What," Nikolas asked then as he stepped outside of the door. Matt ignored him, keeping his attention on me.

"Liz, what did you just say," Matt prodded me.

"Liz, did you hear that scream," Nikolas asked, stupidly.

"Someone fell," I said again, this time louder. "Off the roof."

"Where," he asked, his eyes widened and he looked to Nick. I said nothing more. I couldn't tell them what I saw. It was such a scene. A body falling so daintily and gracefully off of a roof, floating almost like a piece of paper but dropping as fast as a single rain drop.

"Where Liz," Nikolas shouted at me. "Say something!"

"Stop yelling at her," Matt scolded and moved to stand beside me. "She's obviously in shock." He put a comforting arm around me.

"It happened over there," I whispered but didn't point. Matt's arm left me and both he and Nikolas followed my gaze. They looked to each other then simultaneously started walking quickly to the area. The disappeared right into the bushes, leaving the night silent again, picture perfect as if nothing had just happened.

I waited a beat before following them and finally decided to spring into action. I ran off the porch, my run was weak and clumsy and I was terrified of what I might discover. My breath was shaky, my eyes might as well have been gone. Who could have fallen?

I imagined so many faces I had seen from the party. I imagined Lucky diving from the sky, my stomach so knotted with fear. I kept running to the place I'd seen the body fall, my knees weak, I felt I was growing slower as I got closer. I struggled and pushed myself to make it.

I moved through the Quartermaine garden, dodging leaves and bushes, getting closer and closer to the place. Would the person still be alive? My heart beat increased, every second becoming more and more personal.

I stopped suddenly, seeing something. A body or an outline of one. It was laying in the grass, in a bed of tulips, not moving. Consciously, I made the decision to take a step closer, then pushed myself to make another decision and take another step.

I swear my heart stopped beating. Two steps, and I saw it. It was a girl, with long brown hair. Another step, I now saw the girl was wearing white jeans and a light pink jean jacket. Emily had been wearing the same outfit that day. Another step and my eyes widened with realization and anguish. I couldn't bring myself to move again, until the body moaned and my limbs sprang forward involuntarily.

I collapsed in the flowers beside the girl. It couldn't be, I thought as I turned her over but it was. And my mind buckled, I lost all sense.

Emily's blood was everywhere, on my pants, on the front of her own white jeans, soaking the grass. She had a lot of cuts and scrapes but her legs looked more seriously broken than anything, She looked limp and fragile.

I lifted my hand slowly to Emily's cold neck and fingered for a pulse, snapping my hand back when I found a faint one. I looked away from Emily's neck to her eyes and almost screamed, they were open, they sweet, brown and innocent eyes I had known for years.

"Em," I gasped and begun to cry, my heart breaking. Emily only smiled then closed her eyes as the stars whirled and the wind rustled and the darkness covered us.


	3. Chapter 3

**Coloring the Void: Chapter 3**

How long was the fall? I kept asking myself that as I watched Emily's deep mahogany casket make its descent into the big, wide hole in the ground. It was an incredibly sad July afternoon, all who had ever loved Emily Quartermaine in her short life had gathered to say goodbye. They all stood by, some in tears, others stern and stricken, as they watched Emily Quartermaine fall one last time.

Some would say I was lucky for my seat; I hadn't been invited to this cascade like I had the other one. Yet, I still couldn't stop wondering how long it would take for Emily Quartermaine to reach the bottom. How long it would take her to stop falling, stop screaming, and to finally just be at peace.

I'd already known how long her fall had been from the roof. How loud she had screamed. How scared she must have been. Here she was falling again and that scream was all that came to my mind. I felt myself falling with her. I had to stop myself screaming in agony as I watched her go. Never again would I see Emily alive and breathing, never again would I be able to call her or share things with her.

I looked up through my tears at the blurred faces of all who surrounded Emily's grave site, knowing that there weren't too many people there who felt the way I did. Sure their faces held remorse for the loss of a Quartermaine, one who had a whole future ahead of her, and means to accomplish so much. But their faces held judgment; on the news they sang about how her autopsy had shown high levels of drug use and alcohol. So many in town shook their heads at the tragedy.

There weren't too many people I knew that had actually been invited to the funeral. From where I watched, I could have sworn I'd seen Lucky and Nikolas a little earlier on the grass. I had also seen Dr. Quartermaine and his wife, both pale and tearful, dressed in the deepest black. I bit my lip as I took at peek at Emily's mother, hoping she couldn't see me as I hid behind the tree. She was upset, she'd lost a child. I remembered that as I remained hidden. When I had last saw her at the hospital, she'd been filled with grief and talked uncomprehendingly to her colleagues about her daughter's condition. I knew the Quartermaines needed someone to blame, I needed someone to blame myself. And when the general consensus came to place said blame on me, I hadn't really disputed.

I knew Emily wouldn't like that I took the fault upon myself but how could I not. I had been there, in the stairwell that night, debating whether or not I should save her life. Had I interrupted her and Matty, she wouldn't have been left alone. We would have made up and I would have taken care of her. I would have helped her down and we would be at Kelly's eating lunch instead of burying her.

More tears forced their way down my face as I thought about Kelly's with Em. A discomforting silence filled the cemetery as all realized the men had finished their job, with a thunk, Emily Quartermaine had stopped falling, she was gone. 

Nothing could distract me from that hole in the ground. I bit hard on my lip as more tears fell from my eyes. How I longed to have a moment with her. I just wanted to be alone with her, to say goodbye. Emily's funeral party began moving along, everyone picking up a handful of dirt and dropping it in the hole. Each time the dirt fell, I heard the scream in my ears. I thanked Monica Quartermaine then for not inviting me, knowing that I would have lost it in front of complete strangers.

The sky began changing hues as the sun glided across. By the time it reached a vivid blue, there were only a few people remaining. The men were just about finished covering the plot when the Quartermaine family started to leave. I named every person as they walked past. Lila, Edward, Tracy, Alan, Monica, Dillon... the list went on and on. None of them seemed to spot me in my position as they left. After naming the last Quartermaine, I looked back at Emily, surprised to see that one person was still there.

I watched as they stepped onto the loose dirt, bending to touch her headstone, tracing words onto the smooth flat rock where Emily's name would soon be engraved. My breath caught as I watched him. I guess it was only fitting that he'd stayed behind as I'd been naming Quartermaines. He was, after all, no longer one of them.

I waited for him to say his final goodbyes. I crouched, hidden behind the tree. He sat down suddenly, in the dirt and crossing his legs in Indian style. His shoulders began to shake uncontrollably and I heard, from where I stood, the astonishing cries of Jason Morgan.

"I'm so sorry."

He froze in his anguish at the sound of my voice. I couldn't help the tears that were falling now, I had taken Emily from him. I couldn't just stand back as he cried, I had to do something. His pain had pulled me from my hiding place, had forced me to walk over and let him confront me. He needed this, he needed to mourn Emily, to yell at me and hate me until there was nothing left.

He stared up at me, the bright sun directly over us. Streams of tears were still on his cheek, my breath was shaky as his eyes traveled over me I clenched my fist, realizing that my attire probably wasn't the most respectful for his sister's funeral.

It had been a last minute decision to crash Emily's funeral. I had been in bed crying when I opened my eyes and saw the time on my clock. I realized in that moment, a whole bunch of people were saying goodbye to Emily and I wouldn't be one of them. A bad feeling gnawed at me as I thought about this; Emily probably would have been mad if I wasn't there. So I hoped out of bed, got into my car and drove to the plot in an oversized sweatshirt, my ripped jeans, and chuck taylor's.

Jason just stared at me, not saying anything. I begged to know what he thought. The tears burned as I held his gaze. I fought hard against my own grief, but slowly lost as I realized how close I was to Emily and how far all at the same time. I couldn't help it, I had to lift my hand to hold in my sobs. No! No! I wasn't the one who was allowed to be crying. I was the one who they were all whispering about, whose bad influence had caused this. Roughly, I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater and stood stiffly under his gaze.

"I'm sorry," I said again, this time my voice was stronger. "I'm sorry this happened."

Jason's breath inhaled sharply. "Elizabeth?" It was a question, but he could already see it was me. He unfolded himself off the ground and brushed the dust from his pants silently. "It is you," he sniffed. "I– I didn't see you at the funeral."

"If you want me to leave." Tears rolled down my eyes. "Just say the word. I shouldn't be here."

His forehead wrinkled and he shook head. "No, No," he spoke adamantly. "Go ahead"

"I appreciate it," I whispered but I wish he'd just yell at me. Rip into me the way everyone else wanted to and let me know how he felt.

He looked over my shoulder and down the hill. I could tell he wasn't ready to go. I silently promised him I would make it quick, then leave so he can finish his moment with her.

"Thank you," I tried again softly, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "I truly am sorry."

He nodded idly then sighed. He turned back to the headstone, placing his hand on the top and looked down vacantly. He turned back around, regarding me again, his face puzzled and placed a hand on my arm. I flinched at the feel of his hand on me, as he tugged on my arm, moving my hand to replace his on top of Emily's headstone.

All my composure started to become undone as I felt the stone that would tell people of her forever. Jason's hand left mine's and I fell to my knees, weak and in so much pain.

"It wasn't your fault," I heard him say. But I didn't believe that. It was my fault. My tears sinking into the dirt, coursing through the ground, falling, and I could still hear that scream.

"I'm so sorry, Em," It was all I could think to say. "I'm so sorry! I'm sorry. I truly am. I should've– I'm sorry!"

This moment would stay with me for the rest of my life. This was our last talk, our last time as friends.

"It's okay if you blame me," I stifled. "I would if it were me. I made it so awkward that day. I love you and I am so sorry."

There was no hiding it. My heart was cracked in half. I'd lost a sister, my best friend, the only person who cared about me. I was alone now

I had no idea how I'd ever be able to feel anything other than sadness. How I was supposed to get used to not seeing or thinking about Emily every day. How I was supposed to accept the idea that she wasn't out somewhere in the world, making it better while I was still here. It had been hard not seeing her for the months. But now, I no longer had an Emily. We were friends and as a friend, I had failed. Why didn't I just grab her that day? Why hadn't I just shaken her and told her what I thought. Screw her thinking I was judging her, she would have thanked me in the end.

But it was all too late now to think of the things I could have done. My friend was dead, she was gone. And she'd died in a way, her beautiful spirit had never deserved. Her family hated me, my own family was so ashamed, and everyone in town blamed my influence. I couldn't help but wish it had been me. I wasn't the one the world needed out of the two of us, she was. This was all too much.

I opened my eyes, sagging my shoulders as I pulled away. I shook my head and kissed her headstone. I turned, looking over my shoulder, ready to give Jason his time again and leave but I found myself alone, he wasn't there.

"Goodbye Em," I whispered then started down the hill.

I thought about searching the cemetery for Jason. I had seen in his eyes that his moment with Emily hadn't even been close to finishing when I'd interrupted. But I couldn't even think of where to begin and so I headed towards my car.

I didn't feel like going home, home never seemed like the right place to go back to. The moment I'd walk into the door, Sarah and Grandmother would yell and shout at me, and emotionally, I wasn't strong enough for that yet. Only a couple of months ago, their comments easily rolled off my back, but after those months of discovering how much I loved them, I could no longer defend myself. Their opinions truly hurt me, it only made everything seem worse.

When I reached my car, all I could do was stare at it. I had the keys in my pocket and plenty of gas but I didn't want to leave, just like I used to never like leaving the Quartermaine's at night.

"Are you alright," I heard, a gentle hand fell onto my shoulder. In a daze, I turned and met his eyes.

"Yes," I croaked. "So Sorry."

"Stop saying sorry," he huffed then took a deep breath.

"Sorry...again," I squeaked.

"Done already? You sure you said everything you wanted to say?"

"Yes," I replied numbly. "Thank you again for letting me."

"No thanks is necessary," he told me with smile.

I sighed. "Yes it is. I completely understand where your family is coming from with the not inviting me and all but I..." Tears started to well in my eyes. "I loved her a lot. And I just knew she'd be mad if I didn't say goodbye."

"They didn't invite you?"

"No," I whispered, remembering the awful way Monica Quartermaine had shouted at me.

"But they let Nikolas Cassidine and Lucky Spencer come to the funeral." His brows drew together.

I shrugged, my shoulders defeated. "Well, they didn't know Emily as long as I did."

"Which is exactly why that doesn't make sense."

"Well, you're parents never...really liked me," I told him slowly. "They said I was a bad influence for Emily," I continued truthfully, the honesty painful as I released it, "and well I was."

His silence drew my eyes back up to his. It was hard to look into them.

"Did you ever pressure Emily," he pressed. "Ever?"

I waited a long moment after he had spoken. "You are who you're friends are, Mr. Morgan" I replied. "We–" I started but he cut me off.

"You're avoiding the question. Did you ever make my sister to do anything she didn't want to do? Ever?"

"Yes and No," I heaved.

I never forced Emily to do anything. I didn't even force her to go out with me when she had homework. But we had both tried different things. There were some things I didn't like that she liked and some things she didn't like that I liked, and we would tell each other to try new things.

"We did those things together," I wanted him to know. "Every single one. I didn't stop any of this when I could have and maybe if I did,-"

"None of this would have ever happened? More could have been done for Emily?" he proposed. I nodded slowly but he only shook his head. "My sister had a mind of her own."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm just– sorry."

"You're not allowed to say "sorry" to me ever again," he growled. "Elizabeth, what don't you get? You have nothing to be sorry for. Not to me."

"But don't I? I never said...anything. I never did anything to help her. And when I was finished, I didn't ask her to be finished with me. That was the worst thing I could have done."

"Why are you blaming yourself, Elizabeth" he said seriously. "More importantly, why are you trying to convince me to blame you too?"

"I...," I started but trailed off.

"Forget everything the Quartermaine's said." But I could never do that, no matter how hard I tried. "Did you ever do anything directly to cause what happened?"

I tried not to but I saw that night again. Emily's smile was back and that scream.

I looked angrily at Jason. "Yes!"

His usually unreadable eyes simmered with gentleness. "Don't," he murmured, making me feel stupid for yelling at him when he was being so nice.

"Why not," I demanded.

"Because it had nothing to do with you. And everything your saying to me right now, Elizabeth, isn't important. Because you've just lost a friend. You're just trying to figure out how this could happen, like I am. Elizabeth, she was on that roof alone!"

I looked away. He was the one person who didn't think it was my fault. It should have made me happy. But it didn't.

"But–"

"The Quartermaines shouldn't be blaming you either," he said sternly. "But it's what they do. You can't take them seriously. They're just angry and hurt and want to hurt you so they can hurt less. They're just angry. They'll always be angry."

"You weren't there! You don't know why they're angry!"

"The night that Emily died?" His face seemed so much closer to mine. "No, I wasn't. But I know it wasn't your fault!"

"How? How do you know? How do you know that I'm not to blame?"

"Because I know you would never hurt Emily."

"Your– Your mom is blaming me. Your father," I listed, "your Aunt Tracy. Your brother AJ–"

He stiffened and stopped me. "They don't" he said. "They won't even try blame anyone else. They won't even look at themselves and what they've done to make Emily miserable. They won't even remember how she was the past few weeks. How they made her that way."

"But I think they're right," I said.

"And I'm telling you, they're not!"

"I'm just like Emily, Mr. Morgan_"

"It's Jason," he huffed but it was weird to use Jason.

"I did things…" I thought about the last couple of days. How easy it had been to slip back into it. "...I do things worse than her. I've always been worse."

He stared at me. "Then why not stop," he asked. "After seeing all this, why not?" I knew why but I didn't want to tell him my answer. "Do you need to be heading home?"

I looked back at my car that was filled with gas and slid my hands in my front pocket to feel the keys. "No," I sighed.

"Do you mind," he hesitated, "telling me what happened that night?"

It seemed like he desperately wanted to know and he probably did because he hadn't been there like the rest of his family had that day. He didn't get to sit in the waiting area of General Hospital like the rest of his family did, waiting for news on Emily. He missed out on the grief his family suffered when they actually got the news. He wasn't there to see his entire family turn on me, shouting and cursing. He wasn't there for any of it. But I was...

"We were having a party," I told him. "I'd just got back from being away for a long time-"

"Emily told me where you were. She told me about you being in some rehabilitation facility," he said. "She told me all the time how she missed you a lot."

I swallowed, remembering Emily's vulgar declaration to me that day at Kelly's. "It was awkward between us once I got back. I wasn't much fun anymore and she didn't like that. I was hiding in her room and I got into this fight with my boyfriend." I paused, my face screwing into disdain. I almost forgot about Lucky and me. "Ex-boyfriend," I corrected.

"Lucky Spencer?"

"Emily told you about that too?"

Jason nodded. "He doesn't seem like good company."

"Well, Em loved him. They were really close. Anyway, I went to go and find Em after, to tell her I was going to leave. I went to the roof," I felt my throat begin to close. "Emily and I would go up there a lot. I heard her talking about me to someone. So I went back down the stairs and was on the porch…" I didn't realize I'd stopped speaking, all I could hear was that scream.

"Sorry," I shot him a remorseful look. He didn't seem to mind. "Um..I uh..there was this..this scream. And I'm sorry, that's mostly what I remember."

He nodded understandingly then asked, "You found her?"

"I did." Even that couldn't be recovered in my memories. "She was alive when the ambulance got her to the hospital. Barely." I sighed. "I was literally too stupid and frozen to do anything."

"You didn't go to medical school," Jason said gently.

"They teach kindergartners how to use phones, Jason. They know how to run to the house and call 911. Or call someone that could! Anyone! Why couldn't I!"

"Whatever you did got my sister to the hospital–"

"Too late!"  
>"You didn't push Emily off the roof," he groaned. "You did what...I would have done."<p>

"You wouldn't have just sat there," I cried. Old Jason wouldn't have anyway, not in a million years.

"I...don't know what I would have done if I was there...but I do know I'd be too slow to spring into action"

I shook my head and looked at my car again. "I was an idiot. I don't even remember what I was thinking. I think I moved her while she was lying there. It must have made it worse."

"No," he said and caught my chin in between his fingers, steering my eyes back to his, looking so deeply in mine I couldn't help but let the wind catch a few more of my tears. "Elizabeth, you're looking for an excuse to..." his voice trailed off and he seemed uneasy. He me go, looking back up the hill with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Elizabeth, don't use my sister," he bit out "as a reason to go back to the way you used to be."

His eyes bore into mine, his words slapped any kind of breath out of me. I didn't know what to say.

"I'm not!" I cried defiantly but I had already decided he was right. "I am," I admitted, hating that he knew this about me, hating that he'd seen it out so easily, like it wasn't any more complicated than that.

"I...understand that..." he said. But he didn't understand and I didn't expect him to.

"You don't hate me. But you should hate me."

"Why would I hate you, Elizabeth?" he whispered and let silence fall between us again.

I bit my lip and looked back at my car. It was time to go, there was a full tank of gas in the car and I had the keys in my pocket and places to be. I looked back to where Jason had been standing but found him walking away from me and towards his bike.

He was one of them. He was disappointed in me. I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Let him be disappointed, I told myself. They all eventually are.


	4. Chapter 4

**Coloring the Void: Chapter 4**

"I do it because I love him," Gia gushed and rubbed her hand along Nik's arm seductively in front of us. Nikolas only smiled at her.

They were really disgusting, at least I thought so. I never really liked Gia and could only tolerate her for a few hours at a time. She and I were associated a lot by people at school. She was always being talked about for all kinds of antics. Sometimes, I thought she was even more reckless than I was. Knowing her, I wasn't really too surprised when a week after Emily's funeral, Nikolas started bringing her around. I mean I was a little taken aback, but not surprised by how quickly he'd moved on. He never deserved Emily in the first place.

"So what do you think, Liz," Lucky asked me, his eyes giddy as he waited for my input on the topic.

"I think it's disgusting," I said simply.

Nik looked away from Gia, finally taking a break from ogling her to glare at me. "Oh shut up, Liz," he said. "You're one to get on a high horse."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, if you'd let me ride your horse every once in a while, maybe I wouldn't enjoy riding my high one so much."

Nikolas laughed at that. "You're not riding my horse. That last comment cost you." 

"But I love horses," I cried. I loved riding. I liked wind racing through my hair, loved seeing things flying past me. There was nothing really like it.

"That's why I'm buying you one," Nikolas joked.

"You're buying her a horse," Gia gasped in jealousy before I could even respond with another comment.

Nik nodded and pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket. He placed it in between his lips but didn't light it. We were in Kelly's and we all knew Mike, the owner, wouldn't tolerate it. He was a nice old man that always offered us free food and a smile but his old eyes still held that wise advice that we all needed to hear but never wanted to.

"In the process," he said nonchalantly.

"What," I cried, playing it up mostly for Gia. Nikolas loved to lie. I knew that better than anyone. He did it frequently to other people but he'd never really done it to me unless we were fooling around. I'd watch him lie to Emily and Lucky and to his parents and other members of his family but when he spoke to me, he never lied, he just couldn't. I could catch him too quick.

"It's better than her killing mine," he explained to the others but they still stared at him in disbelief.

"You can't smoke in here," old man Mike shouted at the perfect time to end Nik's joke. We all shifted in our seats to look at him. "You know you can't, Cassidine!"

He quickly ripped the cigarette from his lips and shoved it back into his jacket pocket. "Sorry about that Mike," he said with sincerity. "I really do need your daily reminders. They work better than the patch!"

Mike grunted and went back to what he had been doing, wiping the counters. Mike was always wiping the counters and taking orders whenever I was there. I wondered if he actually ever cooked before or just made food telepathically.

"Nik," I said. I could've won an Oscar according to Gia's face.

"No, think of it as an early birthday present," he offered, holding a hand up to stop my phony protests. His eyes were still on Mike. Slowly, he pulled the cigarette back out and put it to his lips, pulling out his lighter.

"You buy people candy for their birthday," Gia growled. "Or condoms! You don't buy them horses!"

Nik laughed and looked at her, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. She kept right on pouting, remaining real stiff till he stopped trying.

"You always love doing too much," I told him, phonily shaking my head. He let go of the angry Gia and shrugged.

"People usually end up loving too much." Which was usually true except I never liked it when anyone did anything for me. I wasn't used to it since there weren't a lot of people in my life who did. "Who knows," Nikolas muttered. "Maybe you'll end up doing what you're so disgusted by for it," he drawled which of course just sent poor Gia over the edge.

She jabbed her fist into his side, forced him to scoot out of the booth then stormed off without even saying goodbye to anyone else. My eyes met with Nikolas's and we couldn't contain the laughs, though no one else in our group understood it.

"So you've never..." Summer pressed on giddily. She loved doing that but I hated her for it. While Gia started uncomfortable topics, Summer Halloway never let them end.

"Remember the hot tub, Liz." Lucky reminded me sheepishly.

Oh, how he liked to live in the past, but only because he thought our past was this great time that constantly needed rehashing. If only he knew how much I regretted doing half the things I had done with him, maybe then he'd stop bringing up old times.

I wasn't like Emily or Gia or Summer or any of my other female friends. I didn't care about guys or think about them all the time. Being with a guy wasn't my priority, I didn't need to talk about them 24/7. Out of our friends, Lucky and I had been together the longest and I had trusted him while I was with him.

But now, I was realizing, maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to give him so much trust. Especially now that he was being so smug about things now that we were over. Summer and Nik were staring at me. Summer's eyes were wide and I knew that she was trying not to giggle.

"Yeah, god, I remember that, Lucky," I smiled at him kindly. "Water's not so kind to you. Even when it's warm."

His face fell and Nik and Summer busted out into a fit of laughter. His eyes stayed on me, I knew he was angry.

"Let's go," he grumbled. "Without Liz. She's being a bitch."

I rolled my eyes. Summer and Nik stopped laughing and grew serious. "Oh come on, Lucky," Summer pleaded.

I grinned and pursed my lips together, trying not to laugh "No, No. Go on without me. Let Lucky sulk, I'm not saying sorry."

Summer and Nik looked from Lucky to me then sighed.

"But..." Nik trailed off, hinting that they were going someplace that I'd probably like be.

But I'd didn't really feel like going. "Oh, no way," I told him. "This morning was pretty rough for me."

Nik laughed and lit his cigarette. "Stop by Gia's tonight then?"

I nodded as they left the booth, waving at Matt who hadn't said a word the whole time.

"I said no smoking in here Cassidine," Mike cried from the counter.

"I know that's why I'm leaving," Nikolas cried back, releasing a long stream of smoke. He smiled at Mike, raised the cigarette to him and pushed his way out the door.

I tried not to smile when Mike grunted again and looked my way with disapproving eyes. I ignored him, picking at my plate and enjoying the buzz I still felt as I ate my donut.

"Are you even listening to me," a feminine voice cried from behind me.

"No," another voice replied in an incredibly abrupt tone. "I'll take a coffee to go, Mike. Black!"

Mike tore his judgmental eyes away from me reluctantly and looked towards the other table and nodded. "Sure thing, Jase."

"I guess I'll have to just talk louder then," the first voice shouted with an irritating laugh.

"Ouch, Brenda!"

I looked down to my plate and picked up my donut, taking the last bite.

"What are you thinking about anyway?"

"The last time I was at Kelly's, I promised Emily that I'd stop by the mansion to see her the very next day."

I stilled. Here I was, sitting in Kelly's and Emily was still there with me. I couldn't believe it; it'd been two weeks since the funeral. I didn't like to think about all the time passing by. Everything still felt the same as two weeks ago, nothing really changed. The news was still talking about Emily, everyone was still in mourning. I hadn't seen Jason since that afternoon at the funeral. Everywhere I went, I looked for him. I wasn't sure what I'd do when I saw him next. I looked over my shoulder to the table behind me and smile when I saw the back of his head. I remembered that day at Kelly's, how concerned he'd been about Emily.

"Here ya go, Jase," Mike said as he put down the cup of coffee.

"Thank you." He stood and handed Mike a couple of dollars then turned away. "And thanks Brenda for breakfast."

"You're welcome," she replied sweetly.

I didn't dare look up. I just stared down at the table, pretending to be deep in thought and waited to hear his heavy black boots walk across the diner and out the door of Kelly's.

But instead I heard, "Hello, Elizabeth," He sounded quite surprised to see me there. I lifted my head quickly, stunned that he would actually speak to me after the rough way he ended our conversation at the cemetery.

"Um," I stammered. "...Hi"

He smiled down at me as I sat there dumbly.

"Jason? Are we going?"

We both looked up at that to see the beefy, short man who had just spoken, standing in the open doorway of Kelly's.

"Yeah, Max," he muttered but didn't move. The man didn't look too pleased with his answer.

Our eyes fell back onto each other. "I hope you're doing okay, Elizabeth."

"Yeah, I hope so too," I spoke quietly, I wasn't necessarily in the state of mind to be controlling my mouth but he hadn't heard me. He was looking at Max who was propelling his arm, motioning for Jason to walk out the door. He nodded to Max, glanced back at me then quickly rushed out the door.

I took a shaky breath. Maybe my head was more messed up than I thought. Maybe he didn't really talk to me. Maybe I'd just imagined the whole thing anyway.

I decided to accept Nikolas's offer to Gia's that night. The minute I'd gotten back to my studio,

I was back to thinking about things with way too much clarity. My canvases sat empty in the room. They were just begging to be painted but that wasn't possible for me. I wasn't ready yet and so I had to get out of the studio and take some things off my mind.

I arrived at Gia's a little late that night, the party was already in full swing when I got there. The music was loud, the base of the song vibrated the old oak of the porch as I walked up the steps. Naturally, I worried that it was all almost over and everything was gone. I didn't know what I would do if everything was finished. But as I walked in and searched the crowd, I knew I'd find whatever it was that I needed. Unlike my "Welcome Home" party, I wasn't planning on hiding out.

I saw a blonde head bobbing around in a circle of boys, and rolled my eyes, already knowing very well who it was. I busted through the crowd, ignoring the wolf whistles from the idiots that surrounded us and grabbed her arm.

"Hey," Summer screeched.

I forced a terse apology and she gave me what I wanted. The next thing I knew, I had a cup in one hand and a joint in the other. Though Summer was absolutely stupid, I could have followed her to the ends of the earth with gratitude in that instant. Lucky for me, she disappeared into the crowd in a couple of minutes and I didn't think she planned on making any demands for what she'd given me, so I decided to accept it as a gift.

I migrated towards a table of PCU students playing cards. The game seemed intense and they asked me to join but I declined. I didn't really like cards. One guy laughed at me and handed me a shot.

I took it thankfully but evaded him when he tried to pull me onto his lap. I guess I didn't know what to do at parties without Emily. Though I didn't remember much of what we did, her presence just made everything seem a whole lot more fun. I downed the cup Summer had given me after my shot, chasing away any more depressing thoughts.

When the cup was empty and everything was burned, I found myself still in front of some damn beer pong table. I didn't know how long I stood there, just watching two fools throw a ball across the table into cups of nasty, warm, fizzling beer. At one point, the guy from who'd given me the shot at the table came up and asked me for my number. His name was John and I gave him a fake one.

There were people everywhere. Three or four couples were sitting on the couch, a pair of them being Nikolas and Gia, while the rest of the hook-ups took refuge in the stairwell. Smoke clouds hovered all around the air, people were dancing. Stupid girls spilled their drinks all over themselves as they moved. My face felt hot suddenly, burning hot actually as the room whizzed and whizzed around. I didn't know what I'd drank but whatever it was, it had me lost.

I grinned at the feeling, embracing the room as it spun around me. Everything was so loud, people were grabbing me left and right. I flew between them like the beer pong ball. Everything was so loud and slow. I couldn't think of anything else to do but dance and laugh and then dance some more.

My memory started fading in and out. Suddenly I was in a different place with someone I'd never met. I giggled and they stared at me; they must not have realized how fun all this was. I frowned when in the next shutter frame I saw Lucky or three Luckys, I couldn't tell. I pressed my eyes shut and screamed, shaking my hair, letting it go wild. When I opened them again, I found my new friend, John. Why was I always meeting Johns? John disappeared, Lucky was back but this time with Summer, ew.

I stumbled away, tripping over feet, lots and lots of feet. There was a tug on my arm and I was yanked around. I hoped I said ouch, the person needed to know they were rough and that hurt. I turned.

"Hi Matty," I was screaming in the next instant. I wasn't exactly sure if he'd been connected to the yanking incident.

"Hi," his mouth spoke. My eyes widened. Where was his voice?

"Are you okay," I cried as loud as I could over the noise. I had to beat the music. "We need to get you to a hospital."

"Come on," his mouth spoke again, taking my arm and pushing us through the crowd. As we moved, feet popped up again, they were everywhere. It was a wonder I hadn't fallen on my face. The shutter clicked once again and the next thing I knew, I was away from the smoke, the loudness, and the fun. Matt and I now stood in what seemed like a psychiatric ward; everything was white, the lights, the walls the floors. Obviously, I'd have to be the one diagnosing Matt.

"Why you so sad," I hollered then and suddenly slipped. My butt entered a deep hole, I was stuck and the only way to get out was by laughing. I laughed and wiggled, laughed and wiggled then looked up to realize Matt was still there.

"Why you so sad, Matty?" I tried to reach out to him.

"I'm not," Matt grumbled. "Liz, your butt's in a sink!"

"Hold my cup," I hissed. "I'm peeing."

"No! NO," he shouted. Everything was getting more and more difficult.

"Lucky's fucking Summer," I sang my new favorite song. It was stuck in my head. It'd been the song playing when we left the party.

"I'm sorry about that," Matt said. "But you can't pee in Gia's sink!"

My savior Matty helped get me out of the deep hole and I was on my feet again, that felt nice. I turned and picked up my lip gloss.

"That's not your brush," Matty informed me.

I looked down. Why was he so obtuse? "I know, it's my lipgloss!"

"Or," he grabbed my hand and ripped my favorite cherry M.A.C lip glass out of my hand. "Someone's toothbrush," he grunted. "Come on, let's go"

I nodded my head furiously in agreement. "Leggo!"

"Say bye to Nucleus," Matt told me as we walked down the aisle of the church. All of our friends were throwing rice. Grams was crying in her pew, she didn't want me to leave the nest while Sarah was glaring at me.

"Byee," I didn't have the power to speak anymore. The ceremony was just so beautiful.

"Text me the minute you get her home," the priest called out, blessing our love. We honeymooned in outer space. It must have been, because after that everything went black.

The next morning, I woke up in so much pain, I was surprised I could even open my eyes. My head was pounding as the walls spun around me. My stomach was churning and I'd never felt so sick.

I stared up at the ceiling in sheer misery, my stomach churning as I did, bile rising and burning in my throat. Not a thought was in my head, I'd realized, none whatsoever. I could've sighed in happiness if my throat wasn't so dry.

"Liz," I heard someone whisper but the burning blocked me from answering. "Liz," they said again. It was Matt. I turned my head slightly. "Hey," he chuckled when I met his gaze.

We were in his room. I was in his bed, tucked securely under his plaid blue sheets in nothing but my underwear. Matt was on the floor, kneeling besides me, he must have slept there. I tried to remember how I got here. I hadn't gone to the party with Matt nor do I remember seeing him there at any time.

"How are you feeling," he laughed but I didn't find him funny. He stood and held a hand out to me; I didn't find that funny either.

I took his hand anyway, gritting my teeth as he helped me up, the ache in my stomach intensifying. I held on tightly to his covers, making him laugh again, and he handed me a glass of water that had been sitting on his night table. I drank the water slowly.

Matt took the glass back when I finished and set it down again. Then he turned back around and stared at me with an expectant look. I sighed, I was in no mood to deal with him. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and sleep. I glared at him but he didn't let up.

"What," I grunted.

He blinked, fighting hard to contain his wretched smile. I could tell that he wanted to burst out laughing but was stopping himself. I balled up my fist up and took a shot, catching the perfect opening.

"OUCH," he shouted. "What the hell was that for?" He rubbed at the stop I'd hit furiously.

I replied simply, "For being an ass."

"Jeez," he huffed. He stood, settling into a seat on the edge of the bed. "Move over," he mumbled but I didn't. And he sat awkwardly on the very edge as his body hung off. "Liz, what were you on last night?"

"I don't know," I grumbled and laid back down, pulling the covers over my head, shutting him out. The darkness was pure bliss as it soothed my pounding head.

"Well who'd you get it from?"

"Summer."

"And… what'd she give you," he said, obviously annoyed by my short answers.

"I donno. Something in a cup and she's always the one with pot."

"Well," Matt sighed. "She totally slipped you one. She had to have given you a roofie."

"What," I cried, the covers over my head in seconds.

My eyes were wide with fear. I needed him to tell me everything I'd done last night. Millions of scenarios came into my head, some involving Lucky, some involving other people. Matt must have saw the sheer panic in my eyes and decided to take pity on me.

"You did nothing crazy, Liz," he laughed. "I came a little late to Gia's but I found you in the middle of the dance floor, having a grand old time. Grander than everyone else around."

"Oh my god," I groaned. "Was I that annoying girl? That's always doing annoying shit? What time did you get there exactly Matty?" I could have been there for hours before Matt had actually arrived. He could have had no idea of what I'd done before then while I was running loose.

"Like I know. I don't remember. But your eyes weren't even open," he snickered. "It was the funniest shit I've seen in weeks. Honestly."

I stared at him.

He snorted. "You don't remember that Lucky and Summer fucking song, do you?"

"What? What song?"

"We saw them together and you made a song. Liz, we gotta record it."

Lucky and Summer, I blew. Who would have thought? I'd expected myself to have more of a reaction. Anger, disappointment, hate but nothing happened. I was completely apathetic to the situation. That was surprising, I was proud of myself even. Whatever pain I'd expected to feel wasn't there. I didn't want Lucky, I'd realized, not clean and not this way either.

"Were you sober," I asked Matt, curious now as to how he'd gotten me home.

"For the most part."

"Well, thanks for getting me here," I smiled and nudged him, realizing how scary my night could have been.

"You want your clothes," Matt asked. I nodded. "You threw up all over the place. I'll get them from the dryer."

He left the room. A short while later he was back with a bundle of warm clothes. He set them carefully on the end of the bed then stepped away.

"You know, it's not really like you to be the sober one," I felt myself saying, realizing how true that was. "Ever."

"Yeah yeah," he laughed. He slid his hand into his pockets and stared down at the floor. "I know it's not. But I'm kind of trying to make it be more like me you know."

He peeked his head up to look at me and I smiled.

Ever since I'd known him, Matt never did things different. He'd always been the one who did things we were all too scared to do. I couldn't imagine him any other way. Though he didn't have a dad, he still had a mother who adored him. Maybe that was why he was doing it. It would be different to know a sober Matty, definitely different.

"I'm not trying to freak anyone out," he said quickly. "But I just don't..I think I might be done partying and stuff. I don't think I'll stop selling. I still need money I mean but I donno. I'm tired of doing the same shit over and over again."

I smiled timidly at him. I was so proud of him for even just saying it. I knew exactly what he meant. It got old sometimes. It got real old.

"Yeah. It's hard by yourself Matt," I warned and he nodded solemnly then shrugged. He was trying to make it seem like no big deal but I knew it wasn't. "If you need it," I offered. "I can give you the number of the place that I went to."

"Yeah. Yeah thanks," he inhaled, pulling out a cigarette. He offered one to me but I shook my head and watched him light his. "And…I don't mean to be rude but… if the place was so good, how come things didn't really work out for you?"

I frowned, thinking of how determined I'd been only a few weeks ago. Now, I'd thrown it all to shit.

"It could have worked," I told him truthfully. He let out a long stream of smoke. "But I don't know. Fuck, Matty. I tried. But then Emily and I don't know. I just don't want to be bothered with anything right now."

Matt nodded in and turned away.

"Did you…uh…did you go to the funeral," he asked me. We were moving into touchy territory. Talking about this was uncomfortable for us both.

"The Quartermaines didn't let me," I told him, morosely.

"Nah?"

"They hate me right now."

He blew more smoke and shook his head.

"I tried to go," he confessed. "But I couldn't be there. Not after everything."

"I went to visit her after. I felt bad about not being there."

"Yeah, I feel bad too," he sighed. "I feel bad now. I regret not going."

"You can still go," I pointed out.

"I can't," Matt said, shaking his head and blowing more smoke.

"Why not?"

"Cause I can't Liz," he burst suddenly. "Cause I fucking can't." He was shaking, but he looked so still. I wanted him to turn, to face me. I wanted to know what was going on with him. But he didn't turn, just walked to the window and opened it. I leaned back against the headboard, wanting to say something but feeling like I shouldn't. I had no right to talk and I knew how Matty felt about Emily. I waited but he never turned.

"I understand," I said finally.

"No you don't, Liz," he mumbled and leaned against the window. "I don't want you to understand. I don't deserve that. Liz, I was the one who gave Emily the–"

I knew what he was going to say but I just couldn't let him say it.

"I know, Matt," I stumbled quickly. "I know! I fucking know!"

He snapped around and looked at me. He looked stunned. The room was quiet and I felt awkward knowing what I did. It was like I'd stepped in on his privacy. I'd stolen a secret from him when I shouldn't have. I hadn't meant to.

"I was there, Matt!"

"When?"

"When you two were on the roof before it happened." I wanted to scream but my voice came out in barely a whisper. "I was there. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"How?" He put his cigarette out.

I closed my eyes and tears fell. "I went up to say goodbye and I saw you two and heard what you were saying. I left before I could hear anything else. But I saw you give them to her and I'm sorry."

"I need to tell them. The Quartermaines. They have to know."

"No," I cried. "They can't know, Matty! They can't!"

"I killed her, Liz," he shouted. "I literally killed their daughter! I have to tell them! I have to tell someone!"

"No, you don't. Matty, you told someone! Okay? You told me." I climbed out of the bed and walked towards, clutching his blankets around me. Tears were falling down my cheeks and I hugged him. "You told me and you don't need to tell anyone else."

He wrapped his arms around me. Matty didn't kill Emily. He'd never hurt her. He loved her, so much, he would have done anything to make her happy. He hadn't planned for any of this. I forgave him and I knew Emily did too.

"I gave her that acid," he whispered harshly. "I left her. I left her, because she hurt my feelings. She brought up Nikolas when she knew," his breath hissed. "She knew. She was talking about flying and I know her! And for the past few months, I don't know… I knew it was something she could do. I knew she'd been wanting to… I won't let them blame you."

"Let them," I whispered. "I don't mind."

"No." He pulled away and starting walking back and forth. "You don't deserve this."

"Don't be stupid, Matty. You go to the Quartermaines and your life, the life Emily would have wanted for you is over! At least with me, there's no proof. You didn't know, Matt! You would have done things differently! You loved her and that's all that matters right now!"

He stopped pacing which I was glad for.

"If you tell the Quartermaines what happened," I warned. "All they're going to hear is you gave their daughter drugs. They won't care how you felt about her," I pounded. "They won't care how sorry you are!" 

I just wanted him to understand. I wanted him to listen to me.

"They'll send you to jail. Trust me, you don't want them to know."

I took another look at Matt but he didn't seem like he was going to move anytime soon. I sighed and walked back to the bed to collect my clothes. I started for the door and to the bathroom, almost there when I heard, "I loved her."

The pain was too much, it was too high and overflowing.

"I loved her so much, Elizabeth."

"I know," I whispered back. "I know."


	5. Chapter 5

**Coloring The Void: Chapter 5**

No wonder all of Port Charles thought I was insane, I fumed, as the world spun dizzily around me and the familiar tingles overtook my senses . You would think I would have learned not to wander off alone when I was out of my mind, after being roofied, but here I was, risking my life again, with no Matt in sight to save me.

I wasn't that bad, just drunk and numb, my heart searing with pain as I watched the water move below the pier. I didn't feel silly or happy, just depressed and alone. My memories were with me still, I was at the point of the night where I'd soon settle down to sleep and wake up to those thoughts, that scream, her smile.

I watched my feet hovering over the water, taking in deep breaths of salty air. Goose bumps ran up and down my arms; Port Charles was never so eerily quiet in middle of the night.

Just as the thought ran into my head, I heard the old waning of the wooden steps. I turned around quickly, wondering who else could be lifelessly wandering around town and if they'd hurt me. My eyes widened, and quickly I scrambled to my feet, grabbing onto the dock pile for balance.

When he saw me, his face fell. The sky whizzed around me, the water so loud in my ears.

"No hi," I stammered, smiling for no apparent reason.

He stopped in front of me and took a very deep breath. "Hi," he replied, coolly.

"Hi," I chuckled, hoping more than anything that it was too dark for him to see my eyes.

"Are you okay," he questioned.

I hated that question though, how was I supposed to answer. I looked up at the sky then, wondering why he was out so late. It was almost morning, the sky was lighter in places and dark in others. Yet, he was fully dressed, wearing his usual heavy black boots, jeans, t-shirt, and his leather jacket, so he couldn't have gone home yet.

"I'm fine," I grumbled. "Depends on what I'm on." I hoped up onto the pile, my seat hard and completely uncomfortable. I turned my attention back to the water. "How are you?"

"Good." he mumbled just as snappily as I did. I smiled. "That's a pretty bad seat you got there, Elizabeth."

I blinked, it wasn't often that I heard my full first name unless I was being ordered around or chastised. Yet he used it so effortlessly, as though it perfectly described me, when it didn't. The name Elizabeth was for a happy girl, one who ran through prairies, picking up flowers for her grandmother. She didn't go out or do anything against her families wishes. She held the family together, she was strong and could handle anything. But Liz, well I couldn't, I broke, shattering into pieces at the first taste of disaster.

"It is," I replied with a nod, referring to my seat. Like the rest of me, my butt had become numb from sitting on the pile.

"It's a nice view," he murmured, looking wistfully across the water. I turned and looked myself, it was pretty magnificent, how the water just floated into blackness.

"It's mind numbing," I whispered.

I could feel his eyes, he was staring at me openly, which made me feel nervous. My hair was a mess. It was frizzy and curly from the summer heat, and darker than usual since it was damp from sweating at the party. I pretended to be distracted and started fidgeting with my hands but I was scared I would fall off the pillar and show up in the newspaper the next morning for the world's dumbest drowning.

"Come on, get off," he said as he carefully helped me off the pile. His hands held me under my ribs, and he easily lifted me and set me on the ground . "Tonight's not a good night to go swimming."

"What," I gasped, looking back up at the sky with wide eyes, searching for the lighter parts of the atmosphere. " It's still nighttime?"

He chuckled and guided me away from the edge of the dock. "Yeah, It is," he said and held up his wrist to show me his watch.

I cocked my head to the side, gasping loudly. "Jason! It's four o'clock in the morning! What are you doing up!"

His brows furrowed and he pulled his wrist away from me and peered down at it. He chuckled, dropping his hand. "It's a little past one, Elizabeth."

"Oh."

"Never get the hang of analog?"

"No, never," I swallowed. "I uh– get a little mixed up between the big hand and the little hand. I'll probably never figure it out."

Jason sighed, quickly looking over his shoulder. "Well, let's figure out how to get you home."

"I know my way," I told him with a parting smile. He smiled back, skeptical, I could tell he didn't believe me. I started walking towards the steps that led right up to my studio. I'd spent a lot more nights at the studio recently than at my Gram's. It had its perks, I never heard too much nagging, I wasn't depressed all the time, and I could basically do whatever I wanted. Still, there were disadvantages to living out of my studio. The bed was a brutally uncomfortable lumpy old sofa and there wasn't any hot water. Then, there were my canvases, which where everywhere. Grams had rented the place as a space for me to work in since she abhorred the smell and mess I made when I was painting. The canvases begged me every night to put my thoughts to them but I couldn't give in.

"Wrong way," he called when I'd just about reached the stairs.

That was interesting. I swiveled back around, accepting the challenge. "How do you know?"

"Come on," he muttered, moving towards me and placing a hand to my lower back. "I'll take you home."

He guided me in the opposite direction of where I'd been headed, passing the other stairs to the dock and taking us towards the parking lot.

"I only have my bike. Are you scared?"

"No," I replied quickly, wondering where he was actually taking me. He couldn't have known where I lived, he barely knew me. But maybe, just maybe, he liked me enough to want to spend the night together. Did I like him enough?

I glanced up at him and while the image of him waved and my vision hazed in and out, I trusted him, as though he was the old Jason who'd never hurt me. As though those piercing blue eyes were filled with concern for me and the large muscular arm wrapped around me was meant for protection. I hoped he wouldn't try anything, I hoped he was the guy i thought he was.

We stopped at his bike which was decked out in all black, as I'd only expected from him. It was beautiful, such a sleek and wild machine for such a stern man. He reached over and picked up a helmet, holding it out to me. I took it and placed it on my head.

"Thanks," I murmured, struggling to fasten the helmet to my head. "You never answered my question, why are you out so late?"

He pushed my hands away and grabbed the straps, fastening them to my chin. "I was working."

"Working?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "And you, what are you doing out," he blistered. " Late. In the middle of the night. On the pier. By yourself–"

"I was," I stammered, anything to stop his attacks. "Well you could say I was working then too."

He glared at me, not dwelling on my last statement and swung his leg over the bike, taking a seat and grabbing the handles. Nervously, I chewed my lower lip and got on the bike behind him, tensely placing my hands on his back. The engine roared to life, the bike humming with energy beneath me. Jason grabbed my arms and with a hasty pull wrapped them around him then returned his hands to the throttles. He kicked back the stand and the bike began to move. I pressed my face into his jacket, inhaling the leathery smokey scent of him.

I'd never been so close to him before, it wound at my nerves and giddily raced my heart. So this was Jason Morgan, I chuckled as the wind brushed against my cheek. This was the big, scary Jason that all in town were supposed to be afraid of?

While he was extraordinary to me, on the surface he seemed pretty simple. He worked, he wore simple clothes, mostly of the same color every day, he was kind, and he didn't mind talking to me; which was kind of the best part.

No, I corrected myself, the best part of Jason Morgan was his bike. I grinned as I tightened my grip around his waist.

It was amazing! All the lights and signs and solid objects floating past me, town squeezing horizontally into one streaming line. It reminded me of a brush stroke with all its artistic swirls. I wanted so badly to sit there and paint and paint for hours. I never wanted it to end.

But of course it had to. Naturally, in my life, good things never really lasted as long as I wished them to. He pulled into my Gram's drive-way and cut the engine. In an instant, all sound flew away, Port Charles and its eery judgmental silence was back. No more roaring. No more wind blowing into my ears and through my hair, chasing away my thoughts. No more life passing by me in thin brush strokes.

"W-Why are we here," I breathed, disappointed that he'd actually known where I lived. It should have excited me that he knew more about me than I thought, that he'd cared enough to pay attention, but I had no desire to get off his bike, and even less to walk into my Gram's.

He looked over his shoulder at me and I scooted back to let him off. In a flash, he was standing in his full glory; tall with his handsome golden features and those unnaturally azure eyes glaring at me. "This is your house," he said simply, so confident, I couldn't dispute.

I shrugged. "Maybe. How do you know where I live?"

He blinked then put his hands in his pocket. "You should get some sleep."

"I should," I muttered then yawned. I knew he was trying to get rid of me. "Too bad this isn't my house!"

He simply stared at me, crushing me beneath his harsh gaze. I chuckled nervously, "Guess we'll just have to ride around for a bit until you find another place you think is my house."

But he didn't laugh and so I swung off the bike and took off the heavy helmet. "Seriously, how did you know?"

He sighed and took the helmet from me. "You should be a little more worried about me ever finding you on the docks again in the middle of the night than me knowing where your house is."

I gulped. "That sounds like a threat."

"It would be best if you interpreted it as one."

My eyes widened. "Thanks for the ride. I really needed it."

"You're welcome," he muttered and moved around me to put the helmet where it belonged.

"It was amazing," I professed. "I think I might get one of these myself." I motioned towards the bike.

"Not the best idea for a girl like you," he grunted, swinging onto it.

"Oh," I cried. "A girl like me? Or do you mean all girls in general?"

He sniffed and shrugged his shoulders. "Just you."

"And here I thought you were sexist," I gurgled, clenching my fist.

"I'm not."

"Which is surprising."

"And why is that," he huffed, clearly exhausted with our conversation.

"You look like a sexist."

"How?"

"You're tall," I said simply then shrugged. "They're short too...but-"

"Oh boy," he groaned, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply.

"Then why don't you think I should get a bike," I cried.

"Because," he scowled. "You're reckless."

"I am," I agreed. "But then so are bikes!"

"You need a good influence to balance out your recklessness."

I smiled and rolled my eyes, pretending not to care that he, like the rest of town, thought I was nothing but a reckless trouble maker. But I did care. It mattered to me what he thought, his opinion stayed deep within me, building up the guilt, making me feel almost embarrassed for who I was.

"So you like riding bikes?"

"Of course," He grunted again. "If I didn't, I wouldn't have the bike."

I smiled, remembering how magnificent the drive had been.

"Everything passing us, all of those lights and the different colors; town just suddenly turning into the wind," my voice grew faint, the itch to paint creeping into my fingers again. "It was so beautiful. Everything just was, there was no drama. Like a realistic rainbow of society."

He stared at me, not blinking. And for the second time that night, I felt like an idiot. It seemed like around Jason, I rarely did or said anything right yet I enjoyed his company more than I ever knew I could. We were always bumping into each other at the wrong time, like tonight, and I wondered if he was only pitying me with this conversation and the drive home.

"Well, I guess I'll have to take you riding again sometime," he said, breaking through my fog. My eyes flew up, I was so startled, yet I couldn't believe he was telling the truth. But he smiled reassuringly at me.

"T– That would be awesome," I marveled. "A friend of mine is getting me a horse soon. Maybe we can race. Your bike against my beast. See who'll win in that unofficial race between nature and technology."

He nodded curtly. "Sounds good."

I tried to bite back my smile. " It does."

My body hummed with happiness and my eyes involuntarily trailed over his stone-like countenance. He was so handsome even with his unrelenting and stern features. He was always indifferent, it was uncomfortable never knowing what he was thinking, yet thrilling at the same time.

It was hard for me to make new friends, it had been my biggest worry after rehab. I was scared Emily and Matty and Nikolas wouldn't want me around anymore. I feared that when the school year started, they'd slowly drift away from me, and I'd be left alone, with no one to talk to at lunch, no one to walk with in between classes. I worried that even if I'd miraculously met someone and was able to get them to trust me, they'd always still hold judgement towards my past.

I shook off the deep thoughts and looked back to Jason, who was looking at me, his brows knitted. I smiled and started for the gate.

"Uh, Elizabeth?" I turned, curious with what more he had to say.

His eyes were soft and gentle. It was the first time I'd seen them so kind, the first time I could see what he held so guarded."Don't be so reckless. I...don't want to see you hurt."

Our eyes locked, electricity trickling down my arms, I felt so close to him even though I was standing so far.

"...I don't know what to say to that," I admitted.

He nodded slowly. "Goodnight Elizabeth." His engine leaped and roared. I stood by the gate and gave him a small wave and then he was gone, swept out of Port Charles and into the world of colorful wind and realistic rainbows.

"Goodnight Jason," I whispered to the quiet he'd left me in.

I looked back at the house, hoping that Jason's bike hadn't woken anyone. I was the only light sleeper in the family, it took a lot to get Sarah and Grams out of bed. I took a deep breath, wrapping my arms around my chest, my skin begging to escape the cold. I sighed, and reached into my pocket for my keys; I hadn't been driving my car lately, every time I looked at it, I thought about leaving the Quartermaines with the promise of seeing Emily the next day.

I clicked the button on the remote that would unlock the doors and quickly got in. I put the key in the ignition, pressed the break, and quickly rushed the hell away from Grams, Sarah, and the bad memories.

When I got back to my studio, once I opened the door, I was too present. The scream roared from each canvas, the need to paint torturing my fingers. I slammed the door shut and sank to the ground, covering my ears and fighting the tears; I was breaking, cracking like a porcelain doll. I was shattering, I'd always be shattering.


	6. Chapter 6

**Coloring The Void: Chapter 6**

"Elizabeth," a voice thundered overhead.

I had been sitting in our usual spot at Kelly's, it was a sunny day and my spirits were high. Yet this voice had scattered that all away, tossing pieces of my everyday surroundings into this ever growing darkness. Instantly, I was left to stand alone in a thick dark corridor where I seemed to be the only contour.

I had never thought it possible to be frightened of a color but I feared this darkness. I could taste my fright as I clenched my jaw to stop my chattering teeth, I feel chills swarming my entire body as my heart raced and I spun dizzily. Black walls, black floors, pitch darkness, it covered everything.

I clung to the small illumination that could be found in the room, which was a small ray of light that hovered above, frightened that if I left it, the darkness would attack. There was no doubt in my mind that it would win. I felt a breeze and squeezed my eyes shut, biting down on my jaw. Was the floor moving?

I didn't dare look at my feet to see, fearing that bugs would be everywhere and I wanted to be the last to know. I felt the breeze again, my heart pounding harder, I so desperately wanted to shrink into a ball and hug my knees. I wanted to rub away the goose bumps on every limb of my body, but I wouldn't move, if I moved the darkness would swoop in.

I opened my eyes again and looked to the only place I'd allow myself, up and to that floating ray of light. My eyes widened, something was floating past the light, something swift and dark. I watched cautiously as it moved, sheer terror eroding at my limbs, forcing the rigid fear from before away.

What could be moving, I thought. And why was this happening? Could it be my worse fear? Could it take my life...right here?

I held my breath, refusing to exhale as I became so overwhelmed with fear. I couldn't blink, the corners of my eyes were filling with unconscious tears, I felt them roll down my cheek and drop into the darkness. The wind blew, it was stronger now, and much more frequent. I still couldn't tell what it was. What could happen next in this place, I wondered. What else did I have to fear?

Suddenly, the winds changed and blew with the force of a tornado. I struggled to stand up right, struggled to stay by the light. I exhaled finally, allowing panic to rip into my soul. My hair was blowing, blocking my view, the darkness was taking over.

"Elizabeth," a voice called out softy.

I slammed my eyes shut, bracing myself for whatever the wind could do to me.

"Elizabeth," a voice called again.

It sounded so unsure but I would not open my eyes, I didn't trust it. I did not need to see who was calling me. I needed to get out of here!

I heard a moan. I heard weeping and sadness that connected with me, a cry so sad and so miserable, it ran quickly over the surface of my heart. But I couldn't open my eyes.

"Lizzie," a shrill ghostlike cry entered the darkness. "Lizzie," It cried again.

I cowered, covering my head with my arms, fighting the strong wind with all my might.

"Liz," it barked, sending a wind so forceful and so harsh, it knocked me right off my feet.

My heart stopped as I flew into the darkness. I hung suspended in the thick dark air. I was falling, I was–

A piercing scream chased it all away.

I opened my eyes, a scream ready at the tip of my tongue. I sagged, relief tiredly creeping into me, I was back where I belonged. My head swung around, taking in the light airy nature of my dingy old studio. There was no darkness here, I thought groggily, it was just a dream, a very bad, horrible dream but not one that could hurt me.

"Liz," I heard. I flinched as they banged on the door. "Would you wake up already?"

It sounded like Lucky.

"How do you even know she's in there," someone else muttered, that voice no doubt belonging to Nikolas.

Wobbly, I got to my feet, hugging myself as I walked to the door. My legs felt tired and every step I took heavy. I pulled the door open for them, pricks stabbing my still asleep hand as I did.

"What time is it?" Was all I could think to say to the two harsh glares I met when I finally got the door open.

"It's almost 10," Lucky huffed and shoved past me and into the studio.

"You look a mess," Nikolas smiled broadly. "May I enter?"

I rolled my eyes and grabbed him by his shirt, yanking him in then shut the door with my foot.

"What kept you up all night," he grinned in merriment. "I know it's not Lucky."

"Hey, shut up," Lucky growled and dropped to a seat on the couch. "We brought you food if you want some."

"Yup," Nikolas continued, placing a brown paper bag on the small coffee table. "Standard egg and cheese."

"What if I'm allergic to egg," I said lamely, too tired to partake fully in my usual conversational scrap with Nikolas.

"You have no reason to be living then," Nikolas resolved sweetly. "So you might as well enjoy."

I sighed, so thankful that my dream wasn't real, so thankful, for the first time ever, it seemed, that this was my life. I walked over to the sink and splashed the ice cold water on my face. I was awake, I kept reminding myself. I wasn't falling, I was awake and firmly on the ground.

"What is this place," Nikolas murmured as he paced about the room.

"It's her studio," Lucky answered for me.

"For what?"

"She paints."

Nikolas gasped, "Really? Is that true Liz?"

I nodded and picked up my toothbrush.

"Well, well," he tittered. "What else don't I know about you?"

"I abhor being woken up in the morning," I rumbled and began to brush my teeth.

"All these canvases are empty," he observed.

I turned and found him lifting the cloth blankets off of each easel that I had covered the empty boards with. The canvases were always screaming whenever I walked into my studio, begging for me to tell them stories. I needed them out of view, to get some relief, I wasn't ready to talk to them just yet.

"I don't paint much anymore," I shrugged and turned back to the sink. "I just rent the place out to sleep."

"No more painting? How come?"

I ignored him, my mouth filled with toothpaste.

"You know if you were talented," Nikolas pressed on. "It could get you into a really good school. It'd be interesting to look into. Have you?"

"Oh sure," I teased and spat into the sink. "Everyday. I usually get at 4pm, brush my teeth, eat breakfast, focus on my education for what, like an hour, meet you guys at five and party the night away."

I turned the faucet back on and rinsed my mouth.

"Well what are you gonna do this year when we're not here?"

I paused, letting the water run as I thought about that fact. Soon, Nikolas would be leaving for Princeton and Lucky would start working full-time at the garage. It'd be weird not having them around all the time, not seeing them in the halls at school, though they were both entirely too annoying. I wondered if Nikolas would clean up his act and really try his best at Princeton. He was really smart, one of the smartest in his graduating class actually, still, he lacked people skills and everyone wondered how he got such good grades for being such a class clown.

"Who knows," I muttered and cut off the water. "And why are you guys here so early?"

"We were dorm shopping," he grinned. "For me. Thought we'd stop by."

"When do you leave?"

He sighed, sinking to the couch. "The twenty-fourth"

I bit my lip, he only had a couple more weeks in Port Charles. Soon he'd free.

"I can't even begin to think what it'll be like to say goodbye," He chuckled. "I'll have to see Em before I go. I don't feel right leaving Port Charles without saying goodbye to her."

I inhaled sharply, the breath knocking out of me the minute he said her name, the pain rushing in, covering me like a giant wave.

"She would have been mad if you didn't," Lucky prompted. "She'd be screaming, telling you not to go."

"I know," he chuckled, his face so distant and so solemn. "I miss that. I miss it a lot."

The more they spoke about her, the more I shrank away. For them, it was easy to bring her name into conversation, to think back and reminisce without the pain. But I couldn't think back without weeping, I couldn't reminisce without wishing badly that she was here. I felt like I was drowning as they tossed her name around effortlessly, creating scenarios she'd get herself into were she still alive. I became deaf to their chatter, moving so far away from it all, knowing that if I stayed, I would shatter.

"So you want to go shopping with us," Lucky asked, breaking into my haze.

"No," I released the pent up breath and sagged. "Not really."

"Why not?"

"I_ I'm not the one going to college," I stammered.

"But you will be," Nikolas argued. "Soon. Might want to catch a glimpse of all the crap you need to get."

"No thank you," I muttered. "I'm not going to college."

"Well neither is Lucky and he's tagging along."

"Well," I grumped. "Lucky's your friend."

That caused Nikolas to grin. "And you're not?"

"No, I'm not."

"Alright then."

Lucky released a long puff of air and stood from the couch stretching. "Told you she wouldn't want to come with us."

"Oh would you stop mopping," Nikolas snapped back but Lucky hadn't heard, he was already out the door and making his way out of the building.

Nikolas sighed and stood up as well. "I'm commissioning a painting," he stopped in front of me and considered me seriously. "I'd like a Liz Webber original before I go to school. So I can hang it on the wall," he smiled.

I nodded and bit my lip, watching as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

No one wanted a Liz Webber original, I thought and pressed my eyes closed, because if I painted, if I even got close to a canvas, darkness would pour out of me and onto them. And like me, they wouldn't be able to handle it.

A little while later, I found myself sitting at the counter of Kelly's dinner. While Nikolas and Lucky's breakfast had been a nice gesture, my stomach wasn't exactly desiring cold egg and cheese that morning. In fact, it didn't seem to be desiring any kind of food at all. I groaned and flopped my head down on the counter top. I'd ordered a plain bagel with butter but had barely been able to touch it. I was so nauseous and dizzy and the cringing in my stomach would not stop.

All in Kelly's could probably tell I was hungover but I didn't care. I felt their eyes on me, where ever I went, there were always eyes. They seemed to know what I'd done last night and wanted me to suffer and be punished for my actions by throwing stabbing glares and accusatory head nods. But I ignored them for the most part, sometimes taking note of who stared, but usually kept on moving.

The minute I'd walked into Kelly's that morning, I'd had the attention of Alexis Davis, Bobbie Spencer and Mike. Mike rarely took his eyes off me and my friends while we were at the diner. He kept watch over us from the minute we walked in until the moment we walked out. I always wondered what he was so worried about, it wasn't like we could steal anything. Unlike other patrons, we were forced to pay for food before receiving it. Yet he was always watching.

Though my back was turned, I could tell the number of stares were rapidly growing. I shifted in my seat, burying my face deeper into my folded arms.

"Hello Elizabeth," I heard.

My head sprung up rapidly and groggily I looked besides me.

"Jason," I mumbled curtly. His eyes seemed to twinkle in delight at my displeasure in seeing him.

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Just fine thank you," I sniffed. "And you?"

But he didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Mike, who's gaze had been bouncing between us, regarding us rather intently. He nodded and Mike jumped back to senses, breaking his critical study of us.

"Coffee to go, Mike," he began.

"Black," I joined in, speaking in unison.

Mike knitted his brows at me then glanced back at Jason with a smile and said, "Sure Jase, coming right up."

Jason glowered, his blue eyes not at all amused. "You know my order?"

"No," I huffed. "You just look like someone who'd drink black coffee."

"Andy why is that?"

"Cause," I shrugged and quickly made something up. "Leathers black and it seems to be all you wear."

He fought a grin, his thin lips pursing and his eyes dancing with light.

"It's August," I pointed out. "Don't you have a light cardigan from Old Navy?"

"No," he scowled. "No I don't."

"Here ya go, Jase" Mike spoke pleasantly as he placed the coffee cup on the counter. But he didn't have time to return to eavesdropping before another customer needed his attendance.

"Thanks Mike," Jason called as he walked away then he turned back to me, his eyes slitting suspiciously. "So, do you remember last night?"

I nodded. "Fortunately and unfortunately I do."

"You called me sexist."

"You didn't dispute the claim," I shot back.

"You know," he fought another grin. "You're not at all like what I'd expected."

I bit my lip, a smile of my own fluttering against my lips. So he'd thought of me before. "And what did you expect?"

"I didn't think you would be this impertinent," he mumbled and took a sip of his coffee.

I gasped, my jaw dropping. "I prefer the word cheeky."

He grinned and stood from the counter, placing a bill on the surface. "Enjoy the rest of your hangover, Elizabeth."

And with that, he turned and took his leave. I turned as well, and watched him, wondering if he'd be riding away on his bike, disappearing into the wind again.

I pushed all thoughts of Jason Morgan from my head and looked back to my bagel. Hopefully, Nikolas and Lucky had finished their shopping so that I could move onto fitter forms of entertainment than hanging around Kelly's. Nikolas had been right, what would I do with my days when they were gone? Would I sit in my studio until night fell then go out? Or would I call up some of the people I was acquainted with and try to forge new friendships?

I didn't really hang out with too many girls. Emily had been the only one I tolerated and while she was good friends with Gia Campbell and Summer Halloway, I couldn't stomach hanging out with them on a regular basis anymore than I could stomach cold egg and cheese.

I'd need something to do. Once school started I'd have class to occupy my weekdays but what could I do on the weekends besides partying? A job, I thought, startling myself. I supposed that would do, seeing as I'd need one after high school anyway to get away from Gram's.

I looked up and found Mike staring suspiciously once again. I sighed. "Got a paper, Mike?"

"I do," he muttered dubiously and propped himself up to retrieve it. He dropped it on the counter in front of me.

"Thanks," I muttered and flipped it open, searching for the job section.

I wondered what I could do, wondered if I'd be good in sales or better in the food industry. I skimmed the column, taking note of the listings that interested me. The Wyndham Department Store was looking for a clerk and L&B records needed a secretary. I probably wouldn't make the best secretary, I wasn't very organized. I could also apply at Jacks Cosmetics, they were looking for sales personnel. I poured over the column, imagining myself in every job title possible, imaging the conflicts that could arise and how I'd handle them with ease.

"Looking for work?"

I jumped and glanced to Mike who'd cocked his head to read the page I'd been on.

"You can read upside down," I mumbled. "Congratulations. Not many can say they have such a talent."

"Any luck yet?"

I'd just started, I thought rudely, but didn't let my annoyance cross my expression. "No."

"Want to know why," he hedged.

"No," I said simply and dropped back to the column. I felt his eyes, boring and prodding, yet again, as he wiped the counter space around me. He began to whistle, I tried to focus on an ad for Pozzulo's. I couldn't imagine myself there, the ambiance to the elegant Italian restaurant was seriously lacking and I'd heard it was famous for housing mafia activity. I sighed finally, giving in.

"Alright," I huffed. "Why?"

"Cause," Mike hissed, forgetting his rag and leaning closer to me. "Monica Quartermaine has been using your name a lot lately. She's got a lot of people in town not liking you, kid."

I balled my fist, wanting to smack myself in the forehead. Why had I forgotten about Monica Quartermaine? "For what reasons?"

"Ridiculous ones," he muttered. "I'll spare you the details. But, you're not going to find work in Port Charles, not even from the kindest person in town."

I gulped, thinking of all the jobs I'd just imagined myself doing and the joy I felt thinking I could easily fill my weekends with work, money, and more independence. It couldn't happen now; I'd forgotten for a second who I was, I'd forgotten that I would never be able to be like normal people. I'd witnessed something gruesome, I'd witnessed screams, screams that I didn't deserve to forget, screams that cost Monica Quartermaine her daughter.

"No one wants to be associated with a murderer," I whispered. Though I knew I wasn't to blame, though I knew Matt had a closer part in this than I did, all of these people accusing me for Emily, they made it sound so good, so simple, I'd lead Emily to death and that was it, it was hard not to believe them.

I handed the paper back to Mike with a weak smile and grimly he took it from me. He placed it back where it belonged and went back to whipping down the counters. I stared at my untouched bagel, the darkness, it had chased away the screams that morning. Yet I'd forgotten about the darkness immediately because I knew it was a dream. But the screams, they were never a dream, how could I forget them, how could I forget Emily?

"You know," my sighed heavily and threw the rag down once again, moving towards me. "I know one place that wouldn't mind taking the risk?"

Though I was shattering once more, rapidly dropping piece after piece of myself, I held my composure and acted as naturally as I could.

"And just where is that," I snorted. "With the way Monica Quartermaine is talking, it seems like I'll have to commute to Ontario for work and I don't like that. Gas is expensive and I hate oak leaves."

Mike chuckled. " Well the place I'm thinking about is a lot closer than Canada," He inhaled deeply. "How about here?"

I blinked. "Here?"

"Yeah," He grinned. "What do you say?"

"Why?" My eyes widened and I looked around.

"I need the extra hand."

"Well," I stammered. "My hand is not the kind you need. Trust me on this one Mike. I'm rude and sarcastic and–"

"That you are," he waved and rolled his eyes. "But I won't try and change that."

I bit my lip. Another thing hadn't occurred to me while I'd been scanning the column. "I...I couldn't the drug tests," I said aloud.

"There won't be any," Mike assured with a small pat to my hand.

My eyes widened in amazement. "Why," I tried again. "Why are you doing this?"

Mike shrugged innocently and folded his hands across his chest.

"You're making a really stupid decision," I admonished but couldn't hide my smile.

"Do you want the job Liz, or not?"

"I want it," I almost shouted, allowing a grin to crack across my face.

"Good," he nodded. "Now let's set up some ground rules," He spoke sternly. "You'll work behind the bar, you'll pour coffee, you'll wash dishes, you'll sweep, you will not open your mouth to speak to any of my customers. If they need something, don't even try, just point them to me. Pretend you're deaf, whatever you want, I don't care."

I frowned. "Am I really that offensive?"

"Yes," Mike snapped and continued without missing a beat. "I want appropriate attire. You can dress casual as long as nothings falling out. Now, not too many people in this town like you," he frowned. "This could be a really bad decision but somewhere deep inside of you, I know you're probably a good kid."

"Deep," I stressed. "Very deep!"

"But this is a good place for you to learn how to work," he nodded seriously. "Someone in this town should at least give you the chance. You might surprise us all one day."

"I seriously doubt that," I muttered under my breath.

Mike sighed. "Just," he articulated. "Say. ."

I grinned, excited beyond words and so angry that a counter separate us, I could hug him for this. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," he chuckled.

I slid from the stool, grabbing my bag and looking expectantly at my new employer!

"Be here early tomorrow," he told me. "For training."

I nodded, and giddily headed towards the door.

"Oh and Liz." I turned. "Don't come here hopped up on whatever it is you're usually hopped up on. The parents in this town may be foolish or in serious denial, whatever the case may be, but if they saw what I saw every Friday and Saturday night, they'd know you're not the only kid in town doing what you're doing."

I nodded and blinked back tears as I pushed open the door. For some reason, Mike Corbin, the suspicious Mike Corbin, believed in me. He was willing to accept the wrath of Monica Quartermaine, he was willing to give me a chance. I couldn't fathom what he saw, couldn't even understand why he was trying but I was happy he was. He something in me, and maybe, I thought, maybe there was something to see after all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** Sorry I haven't updated in a while!

**Coloring The Void: Chapter 7**

That afternoon, I'd decided to go to Grams and grab a couple weeks worth of clothes. After Mike had offered me the job, I felt like nothing could break my spirit, not even my family and their negative thinking. I giddily walked up the stone drive, having no intention of knocking on the door, or even making my presence known. This would be a quick visit, I thought as I pushed the key into the lock and twisted, quick and painless.

The minute I'd opened the door, I was hit with all the familiarities of Gram's. The house was freezing cold like always and I couldn't help my shivers. The change in temperature felt like a splash of ice water to the face and it was a sizzling summer day. Sarah and Grams loved to keep it cold and while I was living there, it seemed like I had a year round cough. The house was noisy as per usual; every TV was probably on, Gram's hated the silence, I'd never asked why.

My grandmother was the type of person who would be perfectly fine sitting in a room where a television, a radio, and a baby were all going off at the same time, her house was never quiet, sounds were always abuzz. It used to bother me when I was younger and my parents had just dropped Sarah and I off. My parents were very quiet people and were always so well ordered and even though I've always loved crazy old Grams and had fun living with her, I used to feel wrong for making so much noise... I'd never really known which rules I was supposed to be living by.

Years later, the noise still bothered me but not so much, I grew to handle it better. It was the only way to deal with the noise, Grams noticed a change in the pitch of her house the minute we'd turn a TV off or lower a radio. She'd march across the house, scolding us for shutting whatever it was off then return it to its normal volume. Grams especially hated it when we were silent and would shout to us from any room, even the bathroom, to have a long drawn out conversation with us about nothing.

That was one of the reasons why Grams and I never really got along. I knew her weakness, I knew she was scared of the quiet in a deep terrifying irrational sort of way but I didn't care when I was angry and used that knowledge to my advantage all the time. Nothing scared my Grandmother more than the silent treatment and even though we fought and she was so very disappointed in me, I knew she missed me. I knew she missed the sound of my voice.

My heart thudded as I crossed the living room floor and tiptoed up the steps. I heard my grandmother's shouting, she was in the kitchen, yelling out to Sarah, who was upstairs, probably in her room. My ears were re-adjust to all this noise and rang as I walked down the hallway to my room. I winced once I opened my bedroom door, dropping the duffel and covering my ears with my hands. An iPod was blasting in the room, probably acting as a trap to let someone know I was home.

"Damn,"I grunted, kicking the door shut, it was time to act and fast.

I quickly grabbed my duffle bag, dumping all the dirty clothes into my empty hamper, then rushed across the room to my dresser, pulling each draw open and grabbing handfuls of clothes, wildly stuffing them into the bag.

I'd almost finished filling the duffel when the door swung open, making a loud clattering bang against the wall. I glared over my shoulder, landing sight on the culprit and finding my lovely sister, Sarah, waltzing right in like the perfect little angel she was.

"Well, well, well," She grinned. I turned around, ignoring her, going back to filling up my bag. The music cut off and my ears could have cried out in relief, if they didn't feel so clogged.

"Picking up some more clothes, are we," Sarah twittered. I rolled my eyes. "Where have we been anyway?"

"Out," I muttered and zipped my bag up.

"I realize that," She chuckled. "For all these weeks?"

"Yup," I said simply and stood, scanning my room for anything else I could possibly need from this place.

"Grams has been looking for you," Sarah told me, aligning herself to stay in my vision as I looked around the room.

"Really," I drawled.

"Yeah," She sighed then gave up trying to make eye contact. "She has a bit of news to share with you."

Our eyes caught then; though we were sisters, you'd never be able to tell. Like our features, we were vastly different, and though we tended to get along, really well actually, it was a wonder we shared genes. Sarah was blonde and chipper, while my hair was brown and I've always been saucy. Sarah was good, she followed the rules, did great in school, went to an amazing college, while I of course, well I fell down the path I did.

"Like," I snarled.

She bit her lip, an old habit of hers and probably the only thing we shared in common. "It might sound better coming from her."

"GRAMS," I closed my eyes and shouted, my throat feeling coarse and not at all used to shouting. It felt so weird, I'd been so long since I'd had a conversation with my Grandmother.

"ELIZABETH," she screeched back. "HONEY, IS THAT YOU!"

"SARAH SAYS YOU HAVE NEWS FOR ME!"

"WHY YES, I DO HAVE QUIT A BIT OF NEWS," she hollered back. "BUT WHAT NEWS ARE YOU REFERRING TO SARAH, DEAR."

I looked to Sarah. "THE NEWS THAT YOU'RE KICKING HER OUT OF THE STUDIO!"

"WHAT," I cried. Sarah simply shrugged. I bolted past her and out the room, running down the hallway and down the stairs. My Grandmother was in the kitchen like I'd suspected.

The minute I saw her I was bellowing, "GRAMS!"

"Now, Elizabeth," She started calmly and turned to the pot that was cooking and poured salt into the vat of water.

"Stop mixing water and pretending like you actually know what you're doing in here, Grams," I jeered bitterly. "And tell me why you're kicking me out of my studio!"

"I'm boiling water for spaghetti, Lizzie," she replied haughtily. "It's hardly a potion."

"Tell me why," I growled and stamped a foot.

"Because I'm much too starved to wait for take out especially when Master Chan's has been–"

"GRAMS!"

It was the same old insufferable Grams. The one who infuriated me to no end, the one who wanted to see me put my life together but always had a hand in my downfall, this time, taking away my studio, like that was supposed to help me in any way. She didn't believe in me, I loved her and she didn't believe that I could have a bright future. It took so much begging and prodding for her to even let me rent that studio.

She hated when I painted in the house, swore up and down she couldn't stand the smell, then would lie down on the couch with a warm towel on her head, swearing I'd given her a headache. Sometimes she'd bust into my room, searching for drops of paint on the carpet or on a piece of furniture, and of course she'd find one then force me to halt production even if I'd had a great idea brewing. I had seen the ad for the studio in the newspaper when I'd turned fifteen and had begged her to let me rent it, but she shot me down, worried what I'd do with the unsupervised space. And she had remained firm on that decision until, one day, she'd walked into my room and had found one of my walls smeared with splatters of paint. I innocently contested that I'd missed the canvas and the next day me and my art supplies were in a brand new studio, one I wasn't ready to part with.

"Oh alright," she huffed and turned to me. "You know why, Lizzie," she rued. "Now tell me what pieces have you been working on lately? I visited your studio this afternoon, and all I saw were empty bottles everywhere and even emptier canvases! Now, if that's art, I'm not getting it."

"I'm searching for a muse," I cried. "I'm at the tip of painting something great, I feel it!"

"Well now that's excellent," She smiled and turned to check the pot. "And I'm so happy for you! But it you're going to paint something great, you'll paint it here."

"Where," I clipped, my fists clenching at my sides.

"Outside."

"What about in the winter?"

"Wear gloves," she said simply.

"I'll paint inside."

"Now Elizabeth," she warned. "You know I can't tolerate the smell."

"I'll be painting in the livingroom," I declared and turned on my heels, marching out of the kitchen.

"NO YOU WON'T," she cried hotly.

"IN FRONT OF THE TV," I hollered back and started climbing the stairs.

"WE ALREADY HAVE EDUCATIONAL PROGRAMMING HERE!"

"WHY WOULD YOU PAINT IN FRONT OF A TV," Sarah interjected into our spat.

"YOU CAN," Grams started but her voice fell lower as she grew closer, "paint upstairs when I run errands and open all the windows in the house. I mean it, all of them."

I turned on the steps and glared at her, suspiciously, realizing something. "The lease isn't up until February. Why can't I use the space until then?"

Grams sighed and dropped her eyes to the floor. "Because," she muttered. "I've given it to someone else."

I raised a brow. "And you know other starving artists from where?"

"Well," she sighed again. "I think Sarah's a little more well fed than you are."

"WHAT," I shouted for the second time in this visit, one that was meant to be oh so quick and painless.

"She eats my spaghetti," Grams expounded. "The portion size alone between the two of us–"

"Well that's just wonderful, Grams," I sneered. "Congratulations to you and Sarah," I applauded with a phony smile. My face dropped the second her eyes landed on me. "The both of you can give up on any idea of ever hearing from me again."

I turned and ran up the stairs, shoving past Sarah who was standing in the middle of the hallway, her face, for a conniving studio stealer, oddly filled with pain and remorse. I ran into my childhood room, picking up the duffel full of clothes and giving the room a quick final goodbye sweep.

I thundered back down the stairs, doing what I did best in this house, drowning all the sounds out, letting only the emotions in.

"Elizabeth Imogen Webber, Where do you think you are going," Grams called out sharply but the words were lost. I briskly walked down the drive and started down the sidewalk.

"Don't be stupid, Elizabeth," Sarah cried from the door. "She changed the locks! If you can't sleep in the studio, where are you going to go!"

But I heard nothing. I was fully enveloped in another world, another plane, where I was safe to let my heartbreaks seep in, where I was finally allowed to tear myself apart and leave nothing for others to find but the pieces.

I had nowhere to go, I sighed, as I took a seat on one of the wooden benches in the Port Charles Park. Night had fallen and I'd still yet to find a place to crash. Normally, if I'd been kicked out and my studio wasn't available for some reason or just wasn't a good idea, I would have gone to Emily's.

But Emily wasn't here! The screams had taken her and I needed to realize that and stop depending on her at times like this. I was alone now, it was a hard fact to swallow after being abandoned by Grams and Sarah, but it was my life now.

After leaving my Grandmother's, I had walked to Matt's, who really didn't live too far, so it wasn't much of a walk. I'd knocked on his door and his mother, Donna, had answered. Donna was the best, she was young with beautiful blonde hair and bright green eyes. She was one of those mothers that were around enough to know you were loved but not enough to know your deepest secrets. Donna liked me, very much, and was always encouraging me to go after Matt. But this afternoon, at her door, it seem that Donna didn't like me much, not anymore.

"Matt's not here," she snapped, the minute she had pulled the door open. My jaw dropped and my eyes widened.

"Oh," was all I was able to say before she was sneering again.

"He wanted to check himself into a rehabilitation center for thirty days," She spoke snidely. "Now, I never wanted to believe the rumors about you. But, it seems that they're true. So stay away from my kid! I mean it! I never want to see you here again."

And with that, the door slammed in my face. Even now I wasn't really sure if I'd fully recovered from that encounter. She'd been brutal and hateful, and hadn't even given me a chance to explain myself, and still I couldn't bring myself to hate her.

I'd always assumed that Donna had known about Matt's dealings, how could she not? He never hid them from her! And how was it possible for a mother to be so oblivious? Maybe that was why she always seemed so okay with everything we did, maybe she was wrapped up in her own life more than I thought and barely took notice of her own son.

I let out a long stream of pent up and irritated air then laid myself down on the park bench, stretching out, making it my bed for the evening. The park was poorly lit, branches creaked, crickets chirped, and owls hooted. I was terrified, stiffly, I laid on my side and shut my eyes, trying not to focus on the sounds of the night. I'd never imaged what it was like to have no home, leaves crumpled and I winced, I'd guessed I'd never let the thought enter into my mind.

Footsteps sounded, my eyes flew open and hastily I scrambled to sit up, my gaze wildly swinging.

"Hi," came a voice from behind me. I whirled around.

I stifled my scream as my eyes fell upon familiar trestles of long chocolate and honey infused hair, hair I'd seen in magazines, in commercials, on billboards whenever I went into the city. It couldn't be, I thought, but it was and there I was.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she hissed. "I didn't mean to wake you, but the park's really not the best place to sleep at night. If you want, I can give you the names of a few shelters where you can stay for the night."

"Thank you," I managed to say, my voice barely a whisper. "But I'm fine."

"You know," She advanced, moving daintily around the bench and taking a seat besides me. "There's not too many homeless people in Port Charles that I don't know," she held her hand out, "I'm Brenda."

"Liz." I bit my lip nervously and shook her hand, still wondering what she was doing here or if this was even real.

She smiled politely, a smile I'd seen too many times in magazines to believe it was sincere. "It doesn't seem you've been homeless for long."

"Just a couple of hours," I murmured, and dropped my gaze to my fiddling hands. A visit from Brenda Barrett wasn't exactly what I needed from the universe right then. Brenda was beautiful and rich and could have anything she wanted at the snap of a finger. She'd never slept on a bench a day in her life or even in an old crappy studio for that matter.

"You want to tell me what happened?"

"No."

"Ouch," she chuckled. "Short and sweet. I have a friend you should meet."

"You have a couple of friends I'd like to meet," I muttered. "Brad Pitt being one of them."

She grinned. "So you know who I am?"

"I do," I sighed. "Is it even safe for you to be wandering around Port Charles by yourself at night?"

"Sure. I don't see why it wouldn't be."

"Because," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "You're Brenda Barrett! You're a model and fabulous and beautiful and rich and all that other nonsense I'm always reading about. People probably get crazy around you."

"Why little miss," She grinned and nudged me with an elbow. "You have me pegged, don't you! My life sounds perfect," she chuckled. "But don't worry, I have a guard, he keeps a few paces back."

I turned and looked through the bushes but I didn't see anything, not even a silhouette of a man. I gulped, suddenly feeling all too unsafe with my choice of rest stop for the night.

Brenda eyed me peculiarly, pursing her lips, then whispered, "You wanna hear something the gossip magazines probably don't know yet?"

I looked back to her and sighed. "Let me guess, you're adopting a baby from Africa?"

"No!" She snorted but her laughter thinned before her smile did and her eyes grew bleak and I knew what she was about to tell me would hurt.

"I'm filing for divorce."

I still had no idea how famous international super model Brenda Barrett talked me into going back to her house with her. No, actually I had a pretty good idea how she did it, in fact, I hadn't really made it too hard.

She was surprisingly nice and completely different from what I'd expected. She was easy to talk to and though I'd just met her, I felt like I could call her a friend. The whole car ride to her house, she was nothing but warm and compassionate to my situation. She was a good person to offer me a place to stay, she didn't know me, had no idea if I was the type to steal, yet she was the second person that day, willing to take the risk on me.

The ride to her house wasn't long and she hadn't been lying when she said she had a guard following her. He followed us all the way up to her floor then deposited us in front of penthouse #2. Brenda took a while to find the key, chucking as she dumped the content of her purse on the floor. When she finally found it, she handed them to me, then went back to shoveling all the stuff into her purse.

I opened the door and switched the light on then awkwardly stepped inside and set my bag down by a bulky looking desk . Goose bumps prickled up my arm as I let my eyes wander. It was pretty bare, there definitely wasn't much to look at. I wondered if Brenda was still moving in or if her husband had gotten her into some financial problems or taken a lot with him when he left.

Her house was my Grandmother's worst nightmare; everything was so clean and so still and quiet. There wasn't much furniture in the room save the desk I'd set my bag by, a big lumpy brown couch, and a pool table.

I swivelled around and smiled politely at Brenda who was walking in. Though her house wasn't what I'd expected, I was still grateful she'd offered it to me.

"Nice place," I complimented.

Brenda frowned."Don't lie!'

"No," I cried, panic seeping in, I'd never been a good liar. "It's lovely! Much better than my studio!"

She shot me a queer glance then grinned. "This isn't my place. It's my friend's. I've just been living here since things fell apart."

I heaved. "Well, where's the furniture? Did they just move in?"

Brenda grinned. "No," She chuckled and walked across the room, disappearing through a doorway. "And I ask that question everyday! Ya hungry"

"No," I cried back.

"Don't lie to me!"

I grinned and walked over to the couch, sinking into a seat. "Is there food in an apartment with no furniture?"

"Shockingly," she chuckled, walking back in with two plates." Yes!"

She handed one to me, on it was a delicious deli-sliced sandwich and my stomach couldn't help itself, letting out a long vicious grumble. I blushed, I'd barely eaten anything all but the slim pickings of my bagel that morning at Kelly's.

Brenda sat besides me on the couch, then bounced up to grab the remote and clicked the TV on. I took a small bite of my sandwich, forcing myself not to inhale..

"It's leftovers from an event I had this morning," she told me. "Dig in."

And I watched as super model Brenda Barrett took one hell of a bite.

I grinned and did the same, still in disbelief at how relaxing being in her company was.

I was just about to take another bite when suddenly the door opened and my head reeled, my mind dividing into a state of shock. My eyes grew wide as they fell on him, my stomach lurching, all respiration ceasing. Why, my mind stammered to put together, had Jason Morgan walked into penthouse number two, as if... as if he owned the place.


End file.
